Adrian dealt with her own grief as she sat at her grandmother’s desk, chose from her grandmother’s stationery.

She’d sent flowers, but flowers faded. A week after the twin blows of death, she wrote to Raylan.

Dear Raylan,

There aren’t words adequate enough to tell you how sorry I am. I know your mother and sister are with you now, and I hope that gives you some comfort.

I’m sorry, too, I wasn’t able to come to Lorilee’s memorial, as I don’t feel I can leave my grandfather.

She was one of the most beautiful human beings I’ve ever known. I didn’t know her well, and mostly through correspondence, but her joy, her kindness, her love for you and your children came through so clearly.

The world lost an angel.

It feels empty to say please let me know if there’s anything, anything at all I can do. But it’s meant sincerely.

To get through this shock, this grief, I tell myself Nonna and Lorilee are looking out for each other now. And for us. For you and your children and for me.

Because it’s who they were.

Some people leave a legacy of goodness behind them. Your Lorilee, my nonna did exactly that.

My deepest sympathies,

Adrian

 

She took it, and the note her grandfather had written, went outside to where Dom sat on the front porch.

“Let’s take a ride, Popi. I have to mail these letters, and we could go by the shop, see what’s doing.”

He smiled at her, but shook his head. “Not today, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

He said the same every day.

She walked over to sit a moment in the chair beside his—her grandmother’s chair. And laid a hand over his.

“Jan and Maya are coming back next week. At least that’s the plan right now.”

“That poor boy. Those poor children. I had a lifetime with Sophia. He had a blink of an eye. Jan should stay as long as he needs.”

“She knows.”

He turned his hand over, patted hers. “You need to get back to your life, Adrian.”

“Kicking me out?”

“Never.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “But you have to live your life.”

“Right now I have to run a few errands. How about I pick up a meatball sub for lunch? We can split it.”

Though she’d suggested his favorite, he just gave her hand another absent pat. “Whatever you like works for me.”

He said that, too, almost every day. Rising, Adrian bent over to kiss his cheek. “I won’t be more than an hour.”

“Take your time.”

But she wouldn’t. She didn’t like leaving him alone more than an hour right now. He seemed too fragile and listless.

As she drove into town, she considered all of her options again, and knew she had to choose.

And really, she’d known all along what choice she’d make.

She pulled into the parking lot at Rizzo’s, walked from there to the post office to mail the letters, and to open a post office box. That meant a short conversation with the postmistress, who teared up when she asked after Dom.

From there, she walked back to Main Street and down to Farm Fresh for a quart of milk, a dozen eggs—and another conversation. She didn’t need a full grocery run, not when people had brought, and continued to bring, so much food.

And her grandfather wasn’t eating as much as he should.

She picked up some wild raspberry jelly, hoping the big breakfast she planned to make him in the morning tempted him.

And added some lavender soy candles in the hope they helped soothe her mind through her morning meditation.

She walked back to her car—another conversation at the crosswalk while she waited for the light. She put the eggs and milk in the little cooler, stowed the rest before going into the lunchtime bustle of Rizzo’s.

She went in the back because she wasn’t sure how many more conversations she had in her. She smelled garlic and spices and the tang of vinegar. She wound her way to the main dining room and open kitchen into the noise of conversations, the clatter of flatware, the swack of knives on cutting boards.

Steam rose from the sauce simmering on the big range; the door to the brick oven thumped as a cook paddled another bubbling pie out.

“Hey, Adrian.” Barry ladled sauce on yet another pie. Gangly, owl-eyed, and loyal, he’d worked at Rizzo’s since his high school days. Four years later, he helped run the shop while Jan—now the manager—comforted her son and Dom dealt with grief. “How’s it going? How’s the boss?”

“He’s doing okay. I’m going to try to perk him up with a meatball sub. When you get a chance.”

“No problem. I know just how he likes it. Grab a seat. You want a drink, a slice?”

“No, thanks. I’ll get—” She started to say water as it remained her go-to. But she thought she could use a perk herself. “I’ll get a Coke. I need to use the office for a few minutes, if that’s okay.”

“No problem,” he said again. “Tell The Dom we miss him around here.”

“I will.”

She poured the fountain Coke herself with plenty of ice.

The office consisted of a little box off the back of the house where the dishwasher worked at the huge sink, the big dough machine stood, for now, idle, and one of the line cooks grabbed more supplies out of the cooler.

Adrian waved, then closed herself inside.

She sat at the desk in the relative quiet, then just leaned back and closed her eyes for a few minutes.

She could get past the ache in her heart when she actively did something. Cleaning around the house—though there wasn’t much to do there. Working out, shopping for essentials.

But whenever she stopped, even for a moment, that ache nearly took her breath.

The solution, she reminded herself, was to keep doing things.

She figured the decision she’d made would ensure just that.

Because she knew this needed a face-to-face, she took out her tablet and FaceTimed Teesha.

Teesha came on, her short braids dangling and the ridiculously adorable twenty-two-month-old Phineas on her hip.

Life changed, Adrian thought. It just couldn’t stand still.

Now her longtime friend, her business manager, her wailing wall was a mom. She’d fallen in love—and stuck there—with a sexy-eyed, slow-smiling songwriter who’d romanced her with music, with flowers, with heroic patience.

“There’s that boy!”

He squealed when he saw Adrian on the screen, then clapped his hands together. He said, “Rizz!” and blew her kisses.

“Hey, Phineas, hey, Phin, hey, the one I love. And I assume that’s red sauce all over his face and not the blood of his victims.”

“You assume correctly. This time. We just finished lunch. Talk while I hose him down. Monroe’s locked in his studio working. But that’s okay. He’s got the evening shift. How are you, Adrian? How’s Popi? I wish we could’ve stayed longer.”

“We’re getting through. But I worry about him, Teesha.”

“Of course you do.” Phineas objected, strongly, to having his face and hands washed. “Suck it up, kid. Almost done. You said your mom left, too.”

“She had events. She stayed three days, and for her, that’s a month in Traveler’s Creek. I can’t slam her too hard over it, because she was hurting. I know she was.”