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“It came to me while I was working on these sketches. Why haven’t I been doing this all along?” She gave herself a slight smack on the forehead. “Duh.”
“It does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you don’t stop,” Izzie reminded her friend.
“I think you have been channeling Confucius today.” Yoko grinned. “And for my family’s sake, let’s include Chansu wa jibun de tsukuru mono, which means ‘You create your own opportunities.’ ”
“Exactly!” Izzie’s mood was improving as the day moved on.
* * *
Several years earlier Isabelle Flanders had been an up-and-coming architect, with her own firm and a fiancé. One night she went out with several friends. They were celebrating the promotion of one of their colleagues at a large industrial commercial firm. After hours of many rounds of alcoholic libations, Izzie decided to call it quits. She’d only had two drinks that night, but didn’t want to get behind the wheel of her car. One of her colleagues, Rosemary, appeared to be abstaining from the drinks and offered to drive Izzie home.
Thinking her friend was better equipped to make the journey, Izzie had handed her the keys. The women got into the car and started home. A few miles down the road, Rosemary decided to put the pedal to the metal and started zooming down the highway. The car hydroplaned, crashing into another vehicle and knocking Izzie unconscious. When she finally came around, she noticed the strong smell of whiskey on her clothes and a police officer shining a flashlight into her face.
“Have you been drinking, miss?” It was a rhetorical question.
A dazed Izzie looked around and discovered she was the only person in the car. In the driver’s seat. “Where is . . .” She was stunned and confused. She did not recall getting behind the wheel.
“Where is what?” the officer asked.
“My . . . my friend,” she stuttered.
“There is no one here but you, miss. Do you know where you are?” He pursued his line of questioning.
Izzie tried to stand but her head was spinning.
“Looks like you got yourself banged up there, miss. But you’re in better shape than the rest of them.” He eyed her closely.
“Who? What? What are you talking about?” Izzie held up her hand to block the searing light in her eyes.
“The people in the other vehicle,” he said bluntly.
“I don’t understand.”
“I am going to have to ask you to step out of the car.”
As the numbness began to fade, Izzie tasted something strong and sour on her lips. Whiskey. She never drank whiskey. Izzie slowly climbed from the driver’s seat and steadied herself against the car door.
“License and registration, please.”
Izzie blinked several times. “In my purse.” She paused for a moment. “Passenger side.” She was certain she had been sitting there, but with the lights, sirens, and the smell of alcohol, she wasn’t sure if this whole thing wasn’t a bad dream. “Officer? I am certain there was someone with me. Someone else was driving. My friend and colleague, Rosemary.”
He gave her a stone-faced look. “I can tell you that you are the only person on the scene, except for the three dead bodies being lifted into the coroner’s van.”
Izzie’s legs began to tremble. What was happening? She moved toward the hood and leaned against it. Think. Think!
The officer pulled Izzie’s purse from the right side of the car, rifled through it, and found her wallet. He took her driver’s license and opened the glove compartment, where most people keep the registration and insurance documents. They all matched. Isabelle Flanders. He walked over to where Izzie was slumped in a crumpled mess.
“Isabelle Flanders, I am placing you under arrest for driving while intoxicated and vehicular homicide.”
Izzie turned and retched all over her shoes. The stench of alcohol mixed with vomit was overwhelming. Even she would assume she had been on a bender.
“Officer, this is all a big mistake.”
“I know. That’s what they all say.” He brought her to his patrol car and placed his hand on her head as he assisted her into the back.
Finally, Izzie was able to focus on the scene. It was horrific. Two ambulances remained silent. Several police cars had their flashing lights in motion as the medical examiner’s van pulled away. The other car was completely crushed like an accordion. From what she could tell, the car had been T-boned and pushed into a guardrail. She peered past the chaos and saw a shadowy figure in the distance. Izzie recognized her. It was Rosemary. Izzie began pounding on the window. “Rosemary! Rosemary!” The woman turned and spotted Izzie, turned again and made a beeline into the darkness. Izzie shouted to the police officer standing closest to the squad car. “Sir! Officer!”
He strolled over to the window. “Yes?”
