Eva had considered doing that, but being here, in a place that had meant a lot to her husband, made her feel closer to him somehow.
Susan’s audible sigh met Eva’s ears. “I feel bad for her. You can tell she just wants to make a difference. I only wish there was a kind way to tell her that her efforts are making more work for the rest of us.”
Tears welled in Eva’s eyes as she strode out of there, nearly stumbling across the freshly waxed epoxy floors in the center’s lobby. When she exited the building, a wave of oppressive heat smacked her in the face. Yesterday’s thunderstorm had left the air charged with moisture, and the eighty-degree temperature felt more like one hundred. Thankfully, the jaunt to the restaurant where Kimberly waited was a short one. After five minutes, Eva had managed to wipe away evidence of her cry session before walking into the trendy vegan place.
Or so she thought.
As Eva approached her friend, who sat in a corner booth studying the menu, Kimberly’s head popped up and her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.” Eva leaned over to give Kim a hug, then slid into the booth opposite her.
Kimberly’s brown hair had been pulled into a smart knot on the top of her head, accentuating her long neck. Her couture white blouse and diamond climber earrings evidenced her growing success as a wedding coordinator. “You forget I’ve known you since we were scrawny thirteen-year-old wannabes. I can tell when you’ve done some makeup patching. So spill.”
“You’re bossy.”
“And you love me for it.”
Her friend, who’d attended college in NYC and started her event-planning business after graduation, was the whole reason Eva had come here from Portland seven years ago at the age of twenty-three. When she’d called Eva about an acquaintance looking to hire an apprentice in his florist shop, Eva jumped at the chance to learn more about a career where she could put her creative tendencies to use. It definitely beat waiting tables and teaching drawing to a handful of students around town.
Despite the protests of her engineer mom and professor father—neither of whom understood their artsy daughter with no interest in college—Eva left home in a matter of days and moved in with Kimberly. They’d worked together on countless weddings since then, Eva always being Kim’s florist of choice.
But that all stopped just over fifteen months ago. May 19 of last year had changed everything.
Kim set her menu down and drummed her French-tipped nails on the distressed wooden table. “Let’s order and you can tell me what is going on, because there’s something. And then I have some exciting news to share with you.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
“Nuh-uh.” She waved the waitress over. “You first. After we order.”
“I don’t know what I want yet. What are you getting?”
“Santa Fe salad. But choose your own meal . . . the way you used to.”
“Fine.” Eva closed her eyes, lifted her finger in the air, twirled it a bit, and planted it firmly on the plastic menu. Her eyes opened, and she glanced down. “Eggplant caponata with sun-dried pesto crostini, it is.”
They placed their order with the server, and then Eva sighed and told Kimberly what she’d overheard in the lunchroom, feeling no need to hold back any details. After all, Kim and Brent’s mom, Sherry, were the two reasons Eva wasn’t still glued to her bed day in and day out, her apartment scattered with half-eaten salads and empty pint containers of Halo Top ice cream. When they’d seen her uncharacteristic listlessness, they’d helped her realize her need for therapy.
Her therapist, Charlotte, had recommended Eva find something productive to do with her days that would make her feel close to her husband—which in turn would hopefully make her feel like herself again. Thus, she’d landed at the heart center, a place that had become near and dear to Brent after his father died of a heart attack.
The waiter delivered their lunch as Eva finished the story about her coworkers.
Barely noticing the food’s arrival, Kimberly slammed her fist on the table. The ice in their water glasses shook. “Those . . . I can’t even . . . Argh!” She sat back against the black cushioned booth and folded her arms across her chest, fire in her eyes. “I want to march right up to those women and give them a piece of my mind.”
Her loyalty warmed Eva’s heart. “They’re right, though. I’m awful at