service, but I thought you already knew.”
Debbie finally stopped knitting and looked up. “Thanks. I’m okay. Just a little shocked and sad. It hurts when we lose one of the group.”
“I know.” Shelby sighed. “I just keep reminding myself that I’m still alive and I need to take advantage of that while I still can.” She brightened. “In fact, my husband and I have decided to take a sabbatical from work and go on a six-month tour of Europe. Neither of us have ever been. I’d love to visit some of the historical sites and see some castles—I love castles.”
“That’s a good idea,” Debbie said. “My husband and I have talked about taking a trip to Italy for years, but nothing ever comes of it.”
Shelby grabbed her hands and looked her in the eyes. “You should do it. You won’t regret it.”
“I’ll think about it.” Debbie smiled and leaned down to pick up her bag. She set it on the table and put her materials away.
“Don’t just think about it,” Shelby advised. “You only get one life.”
“Okay.” Debbie stood, and lifted her bag off the table before wrapping one arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I will definitely consider it.” She doubted Peter could get the time away from work to take a two-week trip, but it was worth asking him again.
They walked out to the parking lot together and chatted for a few minutes before they each got into their own cars. Debbie stashed her yarn bag on the passenger seat and put her key in the ignition, but didn’t start driving. She looked back at the community center and was struck by a wave of grief. Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. The last time she’d seen Diana, they’d been at a knitting club meeting. They’d talked about grabbing a milkshake together sometime, but they’d both had busy lives and they’d never made it happen. Now she regretted not making time for her dear friend.
She grabbed a Kleenex to wipe away her tears, then started the engine and drove back to the catering kitchen. Before getting out of her car, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. After her crying jag, her mascara needed a light touch up, but there wasn’t much she could do about the puffiness of her eyes. She crossed her fingers that her daughters wouldn’t notice. There was no sense in worrying them about her own health by telling them about Diana’s death.
Libby and Samantha looked up from packing all of the food into travel containers when Debbie entered and surveyed the kitchen. All of the dirty dishes had been placed in the dish sink and the counters were spotless. “Looks good, girls.”
Libby beamed. “Thanks. Everything went according to plan.” She tapped her finger on a piece of paper bearing a long column of jet-black checkmarks. “How was your meeting?”
Debbie pasted on a fake smile. “It was great. So nice to see everyone.”
“You’re hiding something.” Sam peered at her. “Mom, you’ve never been great at keeping secrets.”
“I’m not,” she protested. “I had a nice time seeing everyone.” That much was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
Libby scrutinized her too. “No, Sam’s right. You’re not telling us something.”
Debbie strode over to the dish sink without answering. Those dishes weren’t going to wash themselves. She slid a pair of heavy rubber gloves over her hands and turned on the water.
Libby tapped her on the shoulder. “Mom.”
Debbie stared at the liquid splashing into the sink. Steam rose from the stainless-steel basin as the hot water accumulated in it.
“Mom.” Libby reached past her to turn the faucet off. “What’s wrong?”
Debbie braced herself on the edge of the sink. “Diana died.” Her throat constricted. Saying it out loud made it all too real, and grief washed over her once more.
“Your friend from chemo?” Libby asked.
Debbie nodded. Her face crumpled and she leaned against the sink, bawling as her heart broke all over again.
“Oh, Mom.” Libby wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”
Debbie’s gloved hands lay limply on the edge of the sink as Samantha came over and embraced her from the other side. The three of them stood huddled together for over a minute. All Debbie could do was cry. She’d never cried in front of the girls before, but now she couldn’t stop. It was like all of her fears and regrets were coming out at once.
Finally, she stirred, ungloving and swiping her hand across her face. The girls stepped back, but didn’t