sat there at the fancy table staring at the stage as Eva talked about Brent, his passions, and his legacy. The four-foot centerpiece bursting with exotic flowers and beads blocked part of her view, but she could hear the conviction, the wavering emotion, in her sister-in-law’s voice.
Why couldn’t Angela feel that way? Instead of dread, guilt, and the ever-present anger she tried to stuff away, why couldn’t she focus on the excitement of making something good out of Wes’s death?
Maybe if she—like Eva—had the time and energy to do so, and no children to worry about feeding and keeping clothed and housed . . .
Angela’s eyes drifted to Kylee, who bit her lip and gripped her fine linen napkin as she watched her aunt. Her oldest daughter had seemed to blossom overnight thanks to the on-clearance dress they’d found her. The way she’d curled her hair and dabbed lipstick and blush on, she was no longer a little girl playing dress-up with Angela’s old clothes and makeup.
She was a girl on the verge of womanhood, and the idea shot fear right through Angela’s already-full heart.
Eva concluded her speech to thundering applause, and the speaker portion of the night ended. Then they were all swept up in a surge of guests rushing from the room to place pledges and continue playing at the casino tables. Before Angela could grab Eva—she needed to end this charade now—her sister-in-law disappeared into the crowd, presumably to mingle and gather even more support for her cause.
A cause Angela didn’t know if she could stand behind anymore. Not because she didn’t believe in it, but because it was slowly killing her.
With every hour that passed at the gala, she felt the noose tighten more and more. As the money flowed in from donors, they were in this. They were committed. And yet Angela didn’t know how she was going to survive another day of this training schedule, much less four and a half more months.
Angela maneuvered through the organized chaos, feeling like she had a cold—her ears felt stuffed with cotton, her throat raw from swallowing the remorse and dread that kept bubbling up, her eyes glazed with fatigue. The muted sounds of laughter, flying dice, applause, and music dazed her as she wandered, seeking out Eva. Seeking and never finding. What a metaphor for her life.
Okay, now she was just tired, thinking in riddles, her mind giving in to the tiredness her entire body had felt for weeks—a new level of weariness she hadn’t experienced in a long time. And all of it due to training multiple hours a day after working and caring for her children.
She wasn’t going to find Eva in this madness. Angela snatched the heels off her feet and walked toward the edge of the room where she located a few high-back stuffed chairs that looked less than inviting. She sank into one of the chairs, and the muscles in her body groaned and her knees crackled. Her stiff fingers released the shoes, and her head thunked against the headrest. The room faded as she closed her eyes.
“Angela?” A gentle touch to her shoulder jolted her awake. She blinked, her mascara clumping her top and bottom eyelashes together. Her nose and eyes felt as if they’d been exposed to a blast of desert wind, and her head ached. Had she fallen asleep right there in the middle of a party?
She quickly realized the party was over. The music had ended, and Kimberly’s crew was whisking away empty glasses and plates. The casino rentals staff folded tables.
Eva lowered herself into the chair next to Angela. “Sorry to wake you. But it’s time to head home.”
“I went looking for you, and when I didn’t see you, I just . . .” A muscle spasmed in Angela’s middle back. “Where’s Kylee?”
“I think she’s chatting Kim’s ear off in the kitchen.” Eva laughed. “Guess what, Angela? We did it. We raised a million dollars. Well, more than that, actually. Between initial ticket sales, raffle purchases, and pledges, once the race is complete we’ll have made 1.2 million dollars for the Manhattan Heart Center.” Tears glistened in the corners of Eva’s eyes as she reached for Angela’s hand. “Brent and Wes would be really proud.”
Angela stared at Eva’s hand in hers. Now was the time for her to be truthful. She hated to do it, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t go on as she had been. But how to word it in a