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“Veronica, um, I don’t know—”
“—just take notes,” she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Make sure you get it all. It’s very complicated.”
“Yeah, I should probably… I’m going to go get my iPad,” I announce, backing away. “I’ll be right back.”
“Fine,” Veronica drawls, rolling her eyes at Rocco. “Just hurry back. We are on a schedule.”
As I race across the gardens, I can’t help but look for traces of Irving. Is he really gone, already? Did he really leave? All I can do is hang on to the look that Cal shot me. Sympathetic, sincere. He was wordlessly trying to tell me it would be all right.
But how can it be all right? It seems anything but.
I grab my iPad out of my room, praying that the Wi-Fi will be accessible. It seems to vary with the weather and cloud cover. But to my great relief, it is.
Opening the FaceTime app, I click on Tabby’s adorable, curly-haired icon. My heart hammers in my chest as it rings, and rings, and rings.
Finally her face appears, lips pursed, eyes accusatory.
“I assumed you died. Are you calling me from the afterlife?” she growls through tight lips.
“What? No!” I object immediately, trying to catch up with what she is saying.
“Really? Because your death is the only good reason I could think of for you disappearing for three days and not calling me.”
“I didn’t die,” I object meekly.
“I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
“Tabby… I mean, I’m just… Okay. I’m sorry.”
She raises her pale, sparse eyebrows. “Sorry? What on earth could you possibly be sorry for?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for leaving for three days and not calling you.”
“Not even a text!”
“Yeah, well, Wi-Fi isn’t very reliable here, and—you know what? Never mind. You’re right. I didn’t even send you a text.”
“You better have a good goddamn reason!”
Oh, you have no idea, I tell her silently, running through the narrative of the last three days.
“Seriously! What is your reason?”
“Oh, you meant it? You want to know… I mean, you’re asking?”
She looks around theatrically, as though there is a crowd of people listening to her, equally outraged by my demeanor.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m asking. What else would I be asking? You want to know what’s different in my life? Nothing. Well, I got a job…”
“You got a job!” I exclaim. “What kind of—”
“Stop right there!” she interrupts me. “My job is nothing. Your excursion with Richie Rich and his insanely reclusive brother is what we are talking about. Got it? Give me the whole story. Leave nothing out!”
“Actually, I’m supposed to be in a meeting—”
“Leave nothing out!” she talks over me.
Smiling, I finally seem to catch my breath. It’s really good to see her. Her chubby cheeks fill up the screen. Her dimpled pout is so dear to my heart, that just looking at it makes me feel better.
