Last Summer(26)

A tiny smile peeked through Grace’s gloomy expression. “Sounds like fun.”

“It will be.” Ella hugged her friend.

Grace arrived around five. They gorged on mac and cheese and ice cream, then settled down on the couch to watch Friends. Around ten o’clock, long after Aunt Kathy had gone to bed, Ella’s boyfriend, Mike Tate, showed up. Ella was going to send him away but Grace had followed her to the front door.

“It’s okay. He can come in.”

“Are you sure?” Ella asked. She didn’t want to take time away from Grace. Tonight was girls’ night.

Grace nodded. “I’m kind of tired. Think I’ll go to bed. Okay if I take a bath first?”

“Totally.” Ella led Grace upstairs. She got a towel for her friend and gave her one of her bath bombs, warm vanilla sugar. She even lit her favorite candle, avocado coconut. “I’ll be up shortly, but relax. Take your time.” She hugged her friend, then joined Mike on the couch.

As the bathwater ran upstairs, Ella made out with Mike. Eventually, she started to drift off to sleep, and Mike, kissing her good night, let himself out the front door. Ella woke up at 2:00 a.m. and, feeling guilty, dragged her weary body upstairs to her room, where Grace had crashed hours earlier. Ella was such a shitty friend to leave Grace alone on their girls’ night. She couldn’t believe she passed out on the couch. She should have sent Mike home. She was going to see him tomorrow anyways. They had plans to go see a movie.

But when Ella got to her room, Grace wasn’t asleep in Ella’s bed. She wasn’t in the room either.

Soft light oozed from the crack under the closed bathroom door. Ella knocked softly, thinking Grace had woken and gone to the bathroom. But Grace didn’t answer.

Ella tried the knob. It was locked. She called for Grace again, and when her friend still didn’t answer, Ella unlocked the door with a bobby pin she found on her dresser. Ella cracked open the door and stopped short, unable to process what she was seeing.

In the bathtub lay Grace, beautiful, innocent Grace. Fully clothed and soaking in water that looked the color of wine. Ella remembered thinking that the shade wasn’t the color of the bath bomb. It was too dark. Had her friend traded out the warm vanilla sugar for the Japanese cherry blossom? But then Ella saw the long, vertical slits that marred Grace’s pristine forearms, and the steak knife from the kitchen. Grace’s face, pale and serene, angled toward the door. And her eyes. Ella would never forget her eyes. They stared emptily at a point somewhere beyond Ella.

“Oh, my god,” Damien said, bringing Ella back to him and her office. He leaned across her and yanked free a tissue. He dabbed Ella’s face. “It wasn’t your fault, Ella. I hope these tears aren’t because you blame yourself.”

“I don’t, other than wishing I’d sent Mike away. Maybe then Grace wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“Maybe not, but she probably would have another time. It’s tragic, but it’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not. It’s Stan’s. Grace’s father,” she added when Damien frowned.

“What does he have to do with it?”

“He had an affair early in his marriage to Grace’s mom. He never told her, but I guess it festered, and he finally confessed ten years after the fact. If he hadn’t, her parents never would have divorced, and Grace would still be alive. His honesty killed my best friend.”

Damien’s mouth pressed flat. Ella knew he was trying to reason through what she’d said. He’d look for flaws, then challenge her. But he only exhaled roughly and stood. “Grab your coat.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, taking the hand he offered.

“You’ll see.”

“What about the game?”

“Not important. You are.”

Damien took her to Ghirardelli Square, where he ordered a hot fudge sundae to share. He told her jokes and tried to spoon-feed her ice cream, only to smear fudge on her nose. She laughed, and she cried, and it felt good.

“Thanks. I needed this,” she said when they’d finished.

“You’re welcome.”

“It’s Sunday,” she said with a sad smile. “Sundaes on Sunday. You always know how to make me happy.”

“I try.” He smiled and she kissed him.

“I’m happy with you.”

“Good. That’s all I want. And your love. That would be cool to have, too.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin.

“You’ve got it. All of it.”





CHAPTER 11

Late the following day after she received Rebecca’s call about the Nathan Donovan assignment, Ella arrives at his house, a large A-frame off a private, narrow road on the outskirts of Truckee, a vibrant Lake Tahoe ski community that is part old Wild West and part filthy-rich winter playground populated with Silicon Valley multimillionaires and extreme athletes. Beyond Nathan’s house is a view that would be the envy of anyone who loved the mountains. A horizon of snowcapped granite giants sleep majestically in the waning sunlight.

Ella cuts the engine and pushes her arms into the sleeves of her olive-green quilted coat. She unfolds from the car and inhales deeply. Crisp, cold mountain air burns her nostrils and fills her lungs. A breeze rustles through the trees. Aspen leaves dance and pine needles whistle. She rubs her hands together, and bundling her coat tight around her, she shakes off the nervous energy. Nathan knows things about her that she doesn’t. It’s disconcerting. A feeling she’s not accustomed to when going into an interview. Again, she hopes he’ll be more forthcoming than Damien. She wants to get over the interview and on with her life.