Kat
“Do you think Kassidy’s going to be okay?” Kat asked Beau worriedly.
“Hmm?” Beau was lying in bed next to her, reading the morning paper. “She’s going through some tough times, but she’s the strongest girl I know, next to you,” he reassured her.
“I hope you’re right.”
Kat was still adjusting to Kass’s news, a month after her big announcement. She remembered when she herself found out that she was pregnant for the first time, with Kass. Unexpectedly pregnant. It was hard enough, going through all that when she was just twenty-three. At least she’d had David. Kass was doing it all on her own.
“What about Kamille? Do you think she’s okay? I mean, is she happy?” Kat went on.
“Of course she’s happy, darlin’. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. It’s all happening so fast. Her modeling, her engagement, this reality-TV show . . .”
“That’s Kamille for you. If she doesn’t have drama and excitement going on every second of her day, she’s bored to death. You know that.” He picked up the sports page and flipped through it.
Kat studied her nails; she was way overdue for a manicure. She knew deep down that Beau was right. And yet . . . she couldn’t shake the feeling that Kamille was on autopilot, racing through her crazy daily schedule without stopping to think things through or to even take a breath. She no longer came into the restaurant because she was just too busy. And when she was there, the camera crew was always with her. Like the other night when Kamille and Kass were speculating about Chase’s bachelor party while they sampled the specials in the kitchen. Or last week when the cameras caught all three girls arguing about Kamille’s choice of bridesmaids.
The phone rang. For a moment she thought it might be Kass, inviting Kat to come along to her ob-gyn appointment today, after all. (Weren’t mothers supposed to do that? Why did Kass insist on going to all these doctor visits alone?)
But it was the landline, not the cell. Kass never called on the landline. Almost no one did.
Kat reached for the phone on her nightstand. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. She really did need a manicure, desperately. Pippa had told her that one of the many downsides of hitting menopause was excessive chipping and cracking. Great.
“Hello?”
“Kat Romero, please.”
Her chest tightened at the sound of the official-sounding voice. “This is she.”
“Mrs. Romero, this is Lieutenant Sanchez from the Irvine Police Department.”
Oh dear God in heaven. Kat knew, just knew, that something bad had happened to one of her children. This was the same call she had gotten almost five years ago, when she got the news about David’s accident.
But . . . Irvine? So many miles away? That didn’t make any sense.
“Mrs. Romero, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Sweetheart, who is that?” Beau whispered.
Kat put her finger to her lips. “Lieutenant Sanchez, what is this call in regard to?”
Beau raised his eyebrows. “Police?”
“I wanted to let you know that one of my men came upon a wallet belonging to your husband,” Lieutenant Sanchez explained.
Kat started. She turned to Beau. “You didn’t tell me you lost your wallet,” she said in a low voice.
“What are you talking about, honey? It’s right here.”
Beau pointed to the nightstand on his side of the bed. His wallet was sitting next to his “World’s Best Dad” coffee mug from Bree, his laptop, and his big, messy pile of loose change and receipts.
“My husband has his wallet. He just checked. You must have made a mistake,” Kat said to the lieutenant.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. I meant your late husband. Mr. David Romero.”
Kat’s gasped. “W-what did you say?”
“One of my officers found it in an abandoned home yesterday. It looked like it had been there for some time. It contained a bunch of credit cards, his driver’s license, his Social Security card, a few other pieces of ID, and two hundred dollars in cash. Oh, and a whole lot of family photos.”
Kat closed her eyes. She knew exactly which baby, school, and wedding photos Lieutenant Sanchez was talking about. She could still picture them, after all these years, just the way David had arranged them. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?” she said out loud.
“I can’t answer that question, Mrs. Romero. I’m assuming he didn’t take the wallet with him when he went sailing that day? In any case, I wanted to let you know, and also to make arrangements to get the wallet to you . . .”
But Kat was barely listening. Her thoughts were racing with this bizarre new development. David’s wallet had resurfaced after all this time . . . in Irvine of all places. How did it get there?
She remembered that day—that terrible, terrible day—when she’d gotten the news about his accident. He had gone sailing in the waters off Marina del Rey alone, saying he needed to clear his head about something. He didn’t usually sail solo, and she would have questioned him more about it as he was leaving the house. Except that the phone was ringing, and FedEx was at the door, and Kyle was late for her orthodontist’s appointment, and Kamille had spilled juice on her favorite dress, and Kass’s hard drive had crashed in the middle of some important homework assignment . . .
When the storm came up, he had called her on his cell and said he was heading back in. That was the last she ever heard from him. His boat, called The Kassidy, had turned up the next day, broken and battered, on a rocky, isolated stretch of beach near Malibu. His body was never found.
And now the police had come upon his wallet nearly five years later? In Irvine? She couldn’t even begin to wrap her brain around this. David used to keep all his belongings in a waterproof sack when he went sailing. Was it possible that the sack had turned up on shore, separately from the boat, and that some random person had picked it up? But if that was the case, why didn’t that person turn it in to the police before? Or take the cash?
When she finally hung up, Beau leaned over and cradled her face in his hands. “What’s happening, sweetheart? What’s this about David’s wallet?” he said quietly.
“I’ll tell you later,” Kat replied in a trembling voice. “Can you just hold me? For like an hour?”
“I’ll hold you all day if you want.”
Kat nestled in Beau’s arms, feeling numb. She lay like this for a long time. She knew she should just get up and get started with her day—she wanted to go to the gym, and she had a doctor’s appointment at eleven, and there was so much to do at the restaurant—but she couldn’t seem to move.
She had spent all these years putting her life back together: healing, rebuilding, moving on. And just like that, with a single phone call, she had plummeted back to the past. A past that (if she had to be completely honest) she had never quite made her peace with.