Stella looks shocked, but only for a minute. “Actually, no. He asked me out, and at first I said no because of your mom and all, and it didn’t feel right to be enjoying myself, in case you needed me. The next day we ate lunch together, and I told him what’s going on and how I’m helping, and he said he’d wait until I was free.”
“Wow.”
“I know! Anyway, that did it. I took him up on his offer, and we’ve been seeing each other ever since. Want to know the best part?” She leans forward as if it’s a secret, and I automatically mirror her position. “The sex is off the fucking charts. The man knows how to make my body sing like no other.”
“Ugh, I miss sex.”
“Call him,” she says.
I look at her questioningly and shake my head. “Call who?”
“Cooper Bailey. Number twenty-five.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“No. I’m not calling Cooper. Besides, he lives in Boston, and I live here. It’ll never work.”
Stella refills our glasses while saying, “You have nothing keeping you here, except for your job, which you can do anywhere, especially Boston. They have a zoo, and I know this because I already looked. I’d call him and see if you can ride that train again.”
I throw my napkin at her. “I’m definitely not calling him and asking for sex.” Although jumping between the sheets with him again would definitely be worth it, but I’m sure he’s moved on. And if he has, I don’t want to know about it. The rejection I felt, seeing him with that other woman, is enough to keep me here and away from anything that has to do with Cooper Bailey.
After dinner, we take our bottle of wine and sit on the back deck. I have to put this condo on the market because technically I’m not allowed to live here. I’m neither the right age nor am I retired.
“Are you going to help me pack?”
“Yeah,” she says as she sips her wine. “Zeb will help, too. His muscles are big.”
“I bet,” I say, laughing. Stella takes it one step further and puts her hands up, showing m
e just how big. When the laughter dies down, her face softens.
“Let’s go start packing your mom’s room.”
I have to look away. I don’t want her to see me crying. “I can’t.”
Stella reaches for my hand, threading her fingers in between mine. “I’ll be there with you. I know it’s going to be hard, but it has to get done. We’ll start tonight.”
I hesitate for a bit before I nod. I don’t know if it’s the wine giving me the courage or what, but she’s right. I need to do it, and I’ll need her with me.
Stella has to drag me up the stairs. She stops briefly in the closet where she’s been storing boxes and takes a handful down the hall with her.
“Wait, I’ll do it.” I stop her before she can open the door. As much as it’s going to hurt, I want to be the one who opens the door first. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and twist the doorknob and step in.
Her room is basking in the late evening sunlight, creating a halo over her bed. I gasp and cover my mouth as Stella wraps her arms around my midsection.
“She’s here,” she whispers to me.
“I know.”
“This is the right time.” I want to disagree with her, but I can’t. Deep down, I know she’s right. Stella lets go and takes the boxes over to the bed while I stand there and look around. Everything seems frozen in time. My mom’s bed is still unmade, and her slippers sit by the foot of the bed. The afghan she used to keep warm is haphazardly draped over her rocking chair with a glass of water sitting on the small table.
The sound of ripping tape grabs my attention. Three boxes are on the floor, ready to be filled, and Stella is taping the next one. I want to ask her to stop so I can have some time, but I need to do this.
“We should put all her shirts in one box, pants in another,” I tell Stella. “I want to keep her scarves, I think.”
“Okay.”
“Obviously I’m going to keep all her jewelry and pictures.”
“I can call tomorrow and have the bed picked up.”