Inga’s head lolled to the side and she coughed. “Tequila sunrise,” she croaked.
Libbie’s heart lifted at the sound of the older woman’s voice. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Inga’s forehead. “I’ll have tequila again next week, just for you.”
The sound of an ambulance split the quiet night air. “Took them long enough,” Kate muttered.
Relief washed over Libbie. Everything would be okay. The paramedics would be here any minute, and they’d save Inga. She smoothed back the older woman’s fine white hair. “You’re going to be okay.”
“And so will you. I promise,” Inga said, her voice nearly inaudible.
Libbie assumed her friend was delirious. “Only one of us is flat on the floor, Inga.”
Kate’s shadow fell over them. “The next time you fall flat on the floor, Inga Paulsen, you’d better have kicked back more than one shot. This is far too lame for a woman of your caliber.”
Inga managed a gentle laugh. “I will miss you all.” She coughed again. “Remember…”
Libbie frowned. “Remember what, Inga? You’re going to be fine. You don’t have to miss us because we’re right here with you.”
“Just as I will always be with you.” With great effort, Inga turned to face her. “Breath is the spirit.”
With those words, Inga Paulsen smiled and closed her eyes for the last time.
Chapter Three
Libbie lay in bed with her arms resting at her sides, staring at the whirring blades of the ceiling fan overhead. She’d barely slept a wink, and her eyes burned from alcohol and exhaustion. Chris and Hercules were nowhere to be found, and Libbie welcomed the solitude. Chris had still been awake when she’d arrived home last night, tearful and babbling incoherently about lightning strikes and rotten apples. Eventually she’d calmed down enough to share the news about Inga.
“Mom.” Courtney appeared in the doorway, but Libbie’s head felt too heavy to turn. “Do you want something to eat? I can make you toast with jam.”
“Thanks, honey. I’m not hungry.” Whoosh went the blades as they sliced through the air above her head. She’d always warned the kids about jumping on her bed. The ceiling was just low enough to create a hazard.
Courtney perched on the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry about Inga. I know how much you liked her.”
Libbie patted her daughter’s thigh. “She thought the world of you kids.” Inga had said more than once that Josh and Courtney gave her hope for the future.
“Chris says you’re still going to work today.”
“I have to. It’s Fourth of July weekend. Joe won’t have anyone else to fill in on such short notice.”
“Maybe you should cancel on Grandma.”
“I don’t think so.” Libbie allowed herself a small smile. Even if Libbie had been the one to die, Delia Stark would expect her older daughter to resurrect herself in order to show up on time for the party.
Courtney curled up next to her and tucked her legs closer to her chest. Libbie had spent many nights with Courtney in this very position after the divorce. Her daughter had taken the split harder than Josh. Her son had been as practical and understanding as a child as he was at sixteen. Libbie considered him something of a marvel. Courtney was more like Libbie, with feelings that ran so deep that sometimes it seemed impossible to access them.
“Chris said it was a heart attack,” Courtney said.
Libbie nodded. “That’s the unofficial word. It happens.”
“He said old ladies shouldn’t drink. That maybe if she’d started a sewing club instead of a cocktail club, she’d still be alive.”
Anger sparked inside Libbie, but she clamped down on it. “Tequila didn’t kill Inga, sweetie. She’d crammed a lot of years into those eighty-five. I just think her heart wasn’t as strong as her spirit.” Libbie frowned. “Hey, you’re not even supposed to be here. Does your dad know?”
Courtney nodded and kissed her cheek. “I’m not staying long. I have to write the daily flavors on the board.”
Libbie smiled. “Your favorite part, other than taste tests.” Her daughter was an artistic child with an eye for detail. Libbie often wondered where her talent had come from since neither Libbie nor Nick was particularly artistic.
“There’s coffee downstairs. I told Chris to make extra.”
Libbie cupped her daughter’s cheek. “Someday, you’ll take good care of me in the west wing of your mansion.”
It was their little joke that one day Courtney would be wealthy enough to dedicate an entire wing of her home to Libbie’s care. She promised herself that she wouldn’t be anything like Julie’s mother, though. Libbie had no interest in controlling Courtney’s life when she could barely keep up with her own.
“Only silver spoons for your tongue, milady,” Courtney said.
She rolled to her feet and Libbie realized how grown-up she looked now. Summer at the lake would be different this year for the thirteen-year-old with her adorable figure and engaging smile. Something else for Libbie to worry about.
“Have your dad drop you off here later, and we’ll go to the party together,” Libbie said. “I need you showered and appropriately dressed.”
“He already gave us the schedule.” She paused at the sound of thunderous footsteps in the hallway. “Hercules is back.”
“You don’t say.” Before Libbie could shift the covers, the dog leaped onto the bed and dripped saliva on her bare arm. “I guess I’m getting up now.”
Courtney blew her a kiss. “I’ll see you later. I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you.” Libbie stroked the dog’s fur before padding into the bathroom for a shower. Her head started to throb, and she wished she’d had more water last night. She’d been too distracted. Her late arrival had thrown her off balance and she’d never recovered.
She waited until the warm water splashed her skin, and only then did she give herself permission to cry. Libbie’s showers were her safe haven, a place where she could hide from the world and allow herself to feel. It was the place where she’d cried as a young and overwhelmed mother, as a wife in a failing marriage, and finally as a girlfriend in a frustrating relationship. The water washed away her dissatisfaction with her job and family. It was where she’d cried when, in the middle of her divorce, her father had the nerve to call and bemoan the difficulty of her younger sister’s life. Emily, who had an intact marriage, a job she loved, healthy children, and four doting grandparents.
Libbie still remembered how she’d felt in that moment. She’d just come from the lawyer’s office with both kids in the car because the babysitter had cancelled. The kids had been fighting, and she’d been worried about money and the emotional impact of the divorce on the kids. Her father called and she’d put him on speaker, a move which she later regretted and would never repeat. The upside was that her kids had gone quiet at some point during the call and, when she’d turned around to check on them afterward, she’d seen the look of complete understanding on Josh’s young face.