him all the way to the eastern edge of Nebraska, her heart had sunk.
Not only would Keenan be gone the rest of the day, but he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. No afternoon hike around Jenny Lake as planned. No pizza and movie this evening. No warm body snuggled against hers when she awoke in the morning. No Keenan.
When she dropped him off at the boardinghouse so he could pick up his car to go to the airport, she’d surprised them both by wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight for several heartbeats.
“Stay safe,” was all she’d said. All she could manage to say.
As Mitzi drove away, she knew the dark cloud now hanging over her had nothing to do with the weather. Once home, it didn’t help her mood when she tripped running to answer the phone. She fell, rapping her head smartly against the edge of the rustic coffee table. Knowing it could be the hospital calling, Mitzi pulled to her feet and reached it before it went to voice mail. “This is Mitzi Sanchez.”
“M’ija, it’s Mama.”
Mitzi closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and spoke in Spanish. “How are you?”
While her mother updated her on her sister, her nieces and the ladies at the church, Mitzi took a gel pack from the freezer and pressed it against her throbbing head. She was washing down ibuprofen with a cola when her mother mentioned the increased difficulty she was having getting around.
The complaints weren’t anything new. Back when Mitzi was still in medical school, her mother’s doctor had sent her to an orthopedic surgeon. The specialist had recommended a total knee replacement. Her mother had refused. How could she watch her grandchildren if she had surgery?
“I’ve got a solution to your problem, Mama.” Mitzi stroked the cat that had jumped onto her lap. “One of my associates, Dr. Benedict Campbell, is a knee specialist. You could have the surgery here then stay and recover at my home.”
She listened to her mother detail all the reasons why coming to Jackson Hole wasn’t a good idea.
“Yes, I do work a lot of hours.” Mitzi did her best to keep her tone even. “I have a housekeeper who could be here when I was gone. She could—”
When her mother interrupted with more excuses and mentioned Mitzi’s sister thought she simply needed another injection, Mitzi gave up. She tried to massage away a burgeoning headache, and then winced when her fingers touched the bump on her forehead.
The conversation was drawing to a close—or so Mitzi hoped—when her mother asked if anything was new. Mitzi thought about mentioning the award she’d be receiving but decided why bother.
In her mother’s eyes, nothing she did was ever good enough or worthy of a word of praise. That had been true when she was a child, and it was true now. And despite Mitzi’s successful career and her sister’s continued screwups, her mother would continue to go to her eldest daughter for advice, rather than her.
Knowing that didn’t hurt much anymore. Only sometimes. Like now.
Mitzi said goodbye, determined not to give in to self-pity. She’d eat. Watch a movie. Go to bed.
She opened the freezer door and scanned the contents. She wrinkled her nose and shut the door. She didn’t want a frozen chicken breast. She wanted pizza.
Before Keenan had come into the picture, she’d eaten alone plenty of times. There was no reason she couldn’t have dinner at Perfect Pizza then come back and enjoy the movie.
Just because Keenan wasn’t there didn’t mean she couldn’t have a nice evening. Even as Mitzi changed clothes and headed out the door, she couldn’t deny that being part of a dynamic duo trumped being a lonely single any day of the week.
It was still early when Mitzi reached the doors of the popular pizza parlor in downtown Jackson. She figured the dinner rush wouldn’t hit for another hour. Before placing her order at the counter, she considered getting the pie to go but decided to enjoy a couple of slices in the restaurant first.
Once she ordered, Mitzi got her drink and took her salad to a table by the window. Pulling out the latest AAOS Journal, she settled in to read about the “Management of Nonunion Following Surgical Management of Scaphoid Fractures” while she waited for her pizza.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Mitzi glanced up from the journal and saw Betsy. Looking Sunday-night casual in jeans and