“And I get the feeling that ‘somebody’ is me.” He unbuttons the collar of his white shirt. He shakes his head. “But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”
I lean my head back against the headboard and close my eyes. “I was with you when I should have been with her. I know it’s not your fault, but…” I shrug and leave the rest unsaid.
“And you think you could have saved her?”
“Maybe.”
“Lindsey thinks different.”
I crack my eyes open and look at him. “Maybe Lindsey wants to think different.”
“You really believe that?”
No, but I’m angry and sad and miserable. “My mother got out of bed to stash her Little Peanut box, but she didn’t make it.” The day after Mom died, I noticed the lid to the coal bin was open. I feel a tiny bit better knowing she rudely shooed me from her room so she could hoard her cake, not because I was annoying her. “She died on the hardwood floor. All alone, while I was down the hall fooling around with you.”
“I thought it might be something like that. If you hadn’t been in the back parlor ‘fooling around’ with me, what would you have been doing?”
“I’ve asked myself that question, and I don’t know.” I shake my head. “But the answer doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Mais, locking yourself away does?” He stands and walks to the door. “Your momma was a unique woman. I’m glad I knew her.” He pauses long enough to say, “You should try and join the living. It’s gotta be better than grieving alone.”
Maybe for him, but I prefer to grieve alone. I need to wallow in my misery and guilt, and that’s exactly what I do over the next few days. I eat when I’m hungry and spend as much time as I can out on the balcony staring at the Mississippi through the filter of live oaks. Magnolia and wild honeysuckle scent the heavy humid air, and I swim in it until I am dripping with sweat and forced inside.
A week after the funeral, I turn my attention to business, and the decision I’ve put off making. With Mom gone, my time is free. There’s no reason to find a new Love Guru now. Nothing is keeping me from stepping into my Lulu shoes and picking up where I left off. I know the business I built better than anyone, and there’s no reason why I can’t get the excitement back.
Except that I don’t have any desire to get it back. I don’t have the drive or heart for it. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but over the past six months I fell out of love with Lulu. Out of love with my whole life, really. I’ve said everything I know to say, and in as many ways as possible, about love and life and dating. I don’t have the passion I once did, and I’m okay with that. I open up my fingers and let go. I am relieved and freed enough to look at video hopefuls with a new perspective. Freed to see the excitement and passion in someone else’s eyes.
Unencumbered by the heavy burden that has weighed on me for months, I don’t take long to find the new Lulu. She is creative and driven and has the spark I’ve been looking for, and of course, she’s gorgeous, with great style. I call Margie with the news, but the fine details will be worked out later. The business will be restructured, but I am the president of Lulu Inc. and will remain in that position. I just won’t be involved in the day-to-day, or even month-to-month, decision-making.
When I hang up the phone, I actually feel lighter, and I go to bed knowing I’ve made the right decision. I quickly fall into a healing sleep that has eluded me since the day Mom died. A deep sleep that is interrupted by someone insistently shaking me awake.
“Lou Ann.”
I squint against the hall light flooding my room. “What?” Lindsey is speaking to me, but my head is dull. I just want to be left alone, and I close my eyes. “Go back to bed.”
She shakes me again. “My water broke.”
“What?” I sit up straight. “What! Are you sure?” It’s six days past Frankie’s due date and Lindsey has had several false alarms.
“Um… yes, Lou Ann, and my contractions are five minutes apart.”