And then, that one. Maybe Athena was why he was moving back to Chicago.
The caption said, Family dinner. Look who came home. Gorgeous together. With a row of hearts.
Later that day after the wedding celebration waned, her phone rang while she rolled her bike out the diner’s rear door.
It was Blue. How dare he call her now, she thought, frowning at the small screen.
She stood there and let it ring twice more, intending to send it to voicemail. Then, because she was apparently not as strong as she’d been telling herself, she answered.
“What’s up, Blumenthal? Having fun with the family?”
“Jo, I’m glad you picked up.”
She steadied her voice. “It’s kind of a bad time. We’re slammed.” She kicked the door open to let some noise out. “I’ll be right there,” she called out to no one.
“It’ll only take a minute. There’s something I want to tell you?—”
“Blue.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t.”
Silence stretched on the line.
The image was burned into her mind. Blue’s arm around Athena’s shoulders. Elyse in the background, looking so happy for them.
“I need to tell you?—”
“Just follow your heart,” Jo said. “Wherever it takes you.”
“That’s what I’m calling to?—”
“I hope you’re happy there. I mean it.”
“Would you listen to me for one minute?”
“I can’t.” Her throat closed. “Goodbye, Blue.”
She hung up and pressed against the side of the building to steady herself. She couldn’t keep talking to him. It hurt too much.
When she got home, she sank onto her bed and made a call—the only one she could. She threw off her diner clothes and changed. Soon, she was on the ferry, then driving toward her grandmother's home.
The independent living home sat on a jacaranda-lined street in San Diego, a low building with Spanish tile and a courtyard where the residents played cards under a pergola strung with lights. Jo signed in at the front desk.
“I’m here for Rose Dufour,” she said. “I’m her granddaughter.”
The receptionist smiled. “She’s in the theater. They’re showing a film this evening.” She signaled a young man in a polo shirt. “Dan, would you go get Miss Rose for me? Her granddaughter’s here.”
“You don’t have to pull her out of a movie?—”
“Now don’t be silly. She’ll be right here.”
Jo waited in a chair by the fountain. A few minutes later her grandmother strode in wearing lipstick and a silk scarf with a linen shirt.
“Josephine, what a nice surprise.” She opened her arms to her.
“I pulled you out of your film,” Jo said, hugging her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was terrible.” Rose patted her cheek. “Come. I have tea and cookies in my room. Hugo brought them on Sunday. Made them himself for me from my own recipe. Imagine that. The boy can bake.”
Jo smiled, proud of him. “He learned that in my kitchen, and I learned from you.”
