“Well, you know what the cure for that is,” Frankie sang, getting up and going into the kitchen.
“Don’t say it,” I warned.
A few seconds later she came out of the kitchen carrying a pink box and a smile. “Sugar!” she exclaimed, pushing some of the half-empty cartons of Chinese out of the way and setting down the box.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
“Yep.” She flipped open the top of the bakery box and lifted out a perfect-looking cupcake. It had a pink baking wrapper around the bottom, the top was piled high with white icing and pink sugar sprinkles.
I snatched it out of her hand. “You went to The Iced Princess!”
She laughed and reached into the box to get another perfect treat identical to mine. “I figured after everything you’ve been through you need a little royal treatment.”
The Iced Princess was the best bakery in all of Alaska. It was also way on the other side of town. In the rich district. Everything in the store was pink. Pink couches, pink rugs, a pink counter, and it even had a pink crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. They had a big poster just inside the door that read:The Iced Princess: Where everyone gets the royal treatment.
The place was so popular she usually had a line around the corner by the time she opened the doors at eleven o’clock every day.
It was one of my favorite places in town, but we rarely went because it was so far and because it was definitely not cheap.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said as she reached under the box and pulled out a DVD.Magic Mike.It was a movie about a bunch of male strippers who basically paraded around in very little clothing the entire time. Or so I heard.
“I figured we princesses needed a little bit of naughty to go with our nice,” Frankie said, waiving it around in front of my face.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I clutched the cupcake in my hand.
She sighed and set the movie down on the table, then placed her cupcake on top of it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I shook my head and blinked back the tears. “It’s nothing. I just love you is all. Thank you for all of this.”
“Well, it isn’t flowers,” she said, glancing at my bouquet.
“It’s better,” I whispered.
“Oh, don’t start blubbering,” she said, getting up from the couch to put in the movie. “No tears on girls’ night.”
I swallowed and the vision replayed in my mind.
Frankie lying on the floor, her glassy eyes staring upward—seeing nothing. The curls of her blond bob created a halo and her face was pale except for her red lips.
There was no blood.
There was no screaming or crying.
There was no sense of urgency.
I remembered nothing about the background or her surroundings—only her and the overwhelming sense of sadness and loss.
How would I live with that image forever burning a hole in my mind?
What would I do without her?
I blinked and looked up when I felt a hand on my arm.
“I know something’s wrong. That vision was bad, wasn’t it? That’s why you’re upset.”
“Upset? How could I possibly be upset?” I said. “I got the entire day off, a delivery of flowers, Chinese food, the best cupcakes ever, and I’m about to watch a thoroughly entertaining movie with my favorite person in the world.”
She nodded her head once. “You got it good girl. And to make it even better, I propose a slumber party.”
