Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,21
We used to—” Honey stopped as a sob rose in her throat. “We used to Skype, but after the stroke, we didn’t. We just talked over the phone. I missed seeing her, but she said—she didn’t like how the stroke had made her face a bit droopy on one side. I was surprised because she was the least egocentric person I know, but . . . now I realize she was keeping me from not only seeing her, but from seeing that she wasn’t in her apartment any longer.”
A tearful laugh escaped her. “She had to teach me to Skype, can you believe it? I operate my entire business online, but that was something I’d never done. I was kind of afraid, I guess, that if I could see the person live like that, I might . . . know things, and then I just got used to communicating other ways.”
She broke off, realizing she was babbling. To a complete stranger. And about things she had only ever spoken about with Bea. Just because Alva had seemed unfazed by it all. Honey knew better. She scooted her chair back and wiped at her face, embarrassed and feeling more than a little out of her element. “I should probably go. Let you get back to—” She snagged her purse from the arm of the chair. “I’m so sorry to have barged in, not knowing all the facts. I should—I’ll take a cab over tomorrow, and . . . and figure it all out.”
Lani rose and scuttled around the desk so fast, Honey had to jerk back to keep from colliding with her. “Wait. Just . . .” Lani took a moment, pressed her hand to her chest and wiped at the corners of her own eyes. “I really don’t mind talking. And I’m so very sorry you found out this way. I’m sure she was just protecting you. I know it’s got to piss you off and hurt like hell, all at the same time.”
Honey looked at Lani, surprised by the emotion in her voice, wondering how she’d nailed it so perfectly.
“My mom . . . when she passed away, I was in New York, so focused on my career and on what I wanted, and my dad tried to do the same thing. Later on, when he had a heart attack, oh, he was all ‘things are great, I’m fine, don’t bother yourself,’ but I knew. He almost died. I almost lost him. I had to—” Lani broke off at the stricken look on Honey’s face. She started to reach out a comforting hand, but pulled back at the last second, remembering. The look on her face was as good as a pat on the arm.
“Just because I knew he was in trouble doesn’t mean you should have known,” she told Honey. “My dad and I have a long history of him not asking for help and me giving it to him anyway. I didn’t know Bea that well, or for very long. I’ve only been here a few years. But I do know the whole island loved her, and everyone mourned her passing. What I’m trying to say is, she had people. She wasn’t alone. Not when she was here, and not when she was in senior care. There was nothing you could have done to stop what happened, you couldn’t have prevented the aneurysm, no one could have.”
“I still should have been there.”
“But you were there for her. You said you talked all the time. She still had you, just as she always did.”
“I know, but—”
“Honey—God, it’s killing me not to hug you. And I’m not a hugger!” Lani sounded so out of sorts when she said it, then a laugh spluttered out, surprising them both.
Honey couldn’t help herself, she snorted. The tears in her throat made it end on a hiccup, which put Lani over the edge. And somehow, Honey was laughing along with her, only it was cathartic and emotional; the tears that streamed down her cheeks were a release of grief.
“God, I’m such a basket case,” she said, still half laughing, half crying, as she tried to get herself back under control. “I was so worried, first about being here, and dealing with . . . well, with my thing, and then the shop I thought had been sitting empty was occupied and all decked out for a grand opening of someone else’s business, and my car broke down . . .”