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“Ma’am?” The words came from behind her.
Tess shut her eyes.
“You okay?” A young female voice.
Tess stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and tried to still her ragged breathing. She knew tears leaked from the corner of her eyes… or was it sweat? She looked over her shoulder to find a girl of about thirteen or fourteen studying her with concern. “I’m okay. Thanks.”
“You sure? I mean…” The teen glanced down at what Tess wore.
Right. She had on jeans and a pair of ballet flats. Not exactly running gear. “Yeah.”
Not like she’d planned for a run through Old Metairie. Kinda happened when a gal found out the father who she supposedly hated was dying. Guilt and grief had crashed down on her. All she could think to do was run.
Out the door.
Down the street.
All the way to… Bonnabel Avenue?
“Thanks,” she called out to the girl with a wave. Unusual for a teenager to check on someone like that.
Tess pushed the sweat-dampened hair from her face and sucked in the humid air as she turned back the way she had come. Around her the quaint, expensive neighborhood hummed with children laughing, the sound of a lawn mower, and the swoosh of cars down Metairie Road, which was strung with businesses, some open, others not. She’d run a decent way for a chick in ballet flats.
The phone in her front pocket vibrated and she pulled it out.
Michael.
She wasn’t ready to talk to her brother about her father. Too close to home and the sadness would sheet off of Michael—the man felt everything so deeply. Tess didn’t want to feel anything at the moment. She wanted to hide. To avoid. To pretend. For at least fifteen minutes. Maybe an hour. Or maybe she could hide from the entire afternoon.
Pressing the button to bring up her contacts, she hit Gigi’s number. Several rings and a voicemail later, she hung up. A ding sounded. Text message from Gigi.
Found a date to the wedding. I’m trying him on right now. Catch up with you tomorrow. This might take a while ;)
No Gigi.
Tess wondered if she should call Nick. He’d been calling lately. Probably because he was lonely. But Nick was a dead end. At one time she’d hoped they could end up as more than what they were, which was a sometimes convenience.
No sense opening that can of worms.
The phone vibrated again. Michael was a persistent devil… for a priest.
“Hey,” she said into the phone. “I’m not ready to deal with Dad and this shit, okay? I can’t—”
“Tess?”
She pulled the phone from her ear, looked at it and then tugged it back again. “Graham?”
“Yeah.”
“What—why are you calling me?” Tess asked as she looked both ways and crossed the street that led to her parents’ house.
“I don’t know. Well, I do. There are a couple of good reasons, I guess, but mostly I wanted to check on you.”
He knew about her father… knew Frank would tell them today. “You know about Dad’s cancer?”
Duh. Of course he knew. Graham was her father’s new golden boy, his trusted right-hand man, and she was, yeah, just his daughter. Resentment burned in her gut before she batted it down. She couldn’t handle any more negative feelings. She could barely deal with what was squeezing the breath out of her. So Graham knew her father was dying. Big deal. The important fact was her father wasdying.
She stifled a sob, catching it with her hand.
