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When Pandy nodded, Judy motioned to someone in the second row to hand her a bottle. Of course. Everyone was trying to be nice. Trying to make poor, bereaved, weird Hellenor feel better.
If only people had treated Hellenor like that before.
Pandy grabbed the bottle of water and drank thirstily.
“Hey, I’ve got good news for you,” Judy said. “Your sister’s first Monica book is number one on Amazon’s bestseller list.”
“Is it?” Pandy asked. She rubbed the back of her head, and nearly screamed when she felt only the slightest stubble. Its texture was like velvet. It would take years for her hair to grow back.
“I think that would have made your sister so happy. Don’t you?”
Pandy took a deep breath. “Would you mind if I used your phone?”
“Of course not,” Judy said. “Please, call anyone you like. But if it beeps, will you hand it right back to me? Because it could be SondraBeth.”
Pandy nodded. She touched Henry’s number on the keypad, but it went right to voice mail. Of course. Henry wasn’t going to answer his phone, especially from an unknown number. She groaned. He must have arrived in Wallis by now. Looking out the window, she spotted those outlying brown brick buildings in the marshes of the Bronx.
Judy’s phone began singing: an aria. “It’s SondraBeth,” Judy said, holding out her hand for the device.
Pandy handed it back. She couldn’t believe that SondraBeth had allowed her former best friend to be taken back by van while she drove her goddamned custom Porsche to Manhattan. If she and SondraBeth had remained friends, Pandy would have been traveling in the front seat with her.
But apparently SondraBeth either still didn’t know Pandy was Pandy, or had a reason to keep up the ruse.
Road trip, she thought ironically as she tapped Judy on the shoulder for the phone. Judy looked back at her, mystified, then spoke into the phone to SondraBeth. “I think Hellenor wants to speak to you. Do you mind?”
Does she mind? Pandy thought. She had better not mind, she thought as Judy handed her the phone.
“Squeege?” she demanded. “Now listen. I’m happy to see your townhouse. In fact, I’ve been dying to see it ever since it came out in Architectural Digest. But someone needs to get in touch with Henry. He’s probably at Wallis House by now—”
“Shhhh,” came a soft whisper.
“Excuse me?” Pandy said.
“Breathe with me, Hellenor.”
“I am breathing.”
“No. I mean, really breathe with me. Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.”
“SondraBeth,” Pandy said, in a panic, “is this a yoga thing? You know how much I hate yoga. I can’t even touch my toes!”
“You sound just like your sister. I have to go now.”
“But—”
SondraBeth clicked off, and Pandy was left staring at a blank screen. She handed the phone to Judy, slid down in her seat, and crossed her arms. For a moment, she was truly speechless. How long was she going to have to play this game?
Pandy looked back out the window and glared. The SUV was now on the Henry Hudson Bridge. Down below, the water was twisting and shining like a Mardi Gras snake. Then it disappeared behind a hump of green, and they were turning a corner.
And once again, there it was: the Monica billboard.
Judy leaned across the seat and held up several strings of glittering gold, green, and purple beads.
“San Geronimo festival,” she said as she lowered the beads over Pandy’s head. “Welcome to Manhattan.”
“Thanks.” Pandy turned her head to stare at Monica until she once again disappeared.
She fingered the beads around her neck.
