Lena stood inside the party tent, next to Hilde the event planner.
Around them was the symphony of preparation. Caterers placed down balloon centerpieces. On the southern edge of the lawn, two men rolled the luxury porta-potties down a ramp from a truck bed. By the cottonwood tree, DJ Lightning set up his booth.
“You did a wonderful job,” Lena said.
Hilde allowed a brisk nod. With red-apple cheeks and short ponytail, she reminded Lena of the captain of a field hockey team.
But Lena didn’t know if she’d even played field hockey, or whether she was single or attached, gay or straight, a dog or cat owner. Over the past few weeks, Hilde had been a pleasant efficient hum in the background of Lena’s life, not a new paid best friend.
This felt like progress.
“The caterers will start warming things at five,” Hilde said. She checked her watch, which made Lena check hers, too. The Perleys were running late.
“I need to change,” Lena said.
“Go,” Hilde said. “I’ll talk party pacing with DJ Lightning.”
Lena was on the stairs when Rachel called. She picked up, started speaking immediately. “Rachel, I was thinking about what you said and—”
“I remember Annie.” Rachel spoke in a rush.
“I know, and I want to apologize for what I said about your father. I understand how complicated—”
“I remember her.”
Lena suppressed a sigh. There’s a difference between grief and guilt, Rachel, and you have to let it go. I wasn’t a perfect parent, but you have to let it go.
“Okay,” Lena said soothingly. “I can hear that you’re upset.”
“You’re not listening.” Rachel’s yell exploded through the phone. “She was at our party. I noticed her at the bar, and then later I was getting extra napkins and I saw her sneaking up the back stairway. She looked different then, she had this really long hair, and this short low-cut dress. She looked like, well, she looked like she was going to—”
“She looked like she was going to what?” Lena’s throat tightened around a hard lump.
“Please don’t make me say it,” Rachel said.