Page 74 of Keepsake
Lark’s father’s gaze swung in my direction. “And were you at BU as well, Zach?”
“Uh, no. Can’t say that I was.” There was a small silence while Mr. Wainright waited for me to supply more information. But I didn’t have any to supply.
After a pause, Lark’s mother helped me out by changing the topic. “Another reason we drove up today is that you received some registered mail.” She reached for her purse on the floor and then dug through it. “I believe this is from your employer, honey. Since I had to sign for it, I assume it’s something important.”
I watched Lark take the envelope and squint at it. She ripped the strip off the top and pulled out a single sheet of paper and read it. “Those motherfuckers.”
“Lark,” her mother whispered, mortified.
“What does it say?” her father asked.
Lark dropped the page onto the table. “Three weeks. I have three weeks to either come back to work or provide a doctor’s note explaining why I can’t. Or separate from the company.”
“Can they do that?” Ruth asked, her eyes wide.
“Probably,” Lark scoffed. “And I understand why they have to. It’s a nonprofit on a shoestring budget. They can’t just cut me checks indefinitely while I try to decide what to do next. But it’s just so cold. Their legalese makes me want to punch someone.”
Griffin, who was seated beside Lark, turned in his seat and reached for her. “I’m sorry, Wild Child.” He folded her into a hug that made me itch to do the same.
“It’s okay,” she mumbled.
“What are you going to do?” her mother asked, and my chest tightened.
Three weeks. I’d always known that Lark was only here temporarily. But three weeks would pass by in a blink.
“Well…” Lark sat back in her chair as Griff released her. “I’m not sure. I’ll think it over.”
“Let’s find you a doctor’s note!” her father suggested, and my heart leapt in agreement. “How hard could it be? That doctor at Tufts thought you should continue treatment.”
“Here’s an idea!” Lark yelped. “How about we don’t discuss my doctor visits at the table?”
“I think it’s time for cookies,” Ruth said, pushing back her chair.
“I’ll get them,” I said, beating her to it. I jumped up and went into the kitchen alone. Once I got there, I put my hands on the counter and let out a breath. The stress I felt right now was a brand new thing. I was pissed off that Lark was upset, and I was afraid she’d leave. I was irritated at her employer for putting their little ultimatum in an envelope and mailing it to her like an emotional letter bomb.
The rage I felt was completely unfamiliar, and I didn’t have any idea what to do with it.
Someone else came into the kitchen, and I straightened up, trying to remember why I was there.
“Hey, now,” Griff said. He walked up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. “Where does Mom keep the cookies, anyway?”
“Cupboard over the toaster,” I mumbled.
Griff wandered to that corner of the kitchen and opened the cupboard. “Score!”
I just shook my head. Griffin was famous for never helping in the kitchen. But he got away with it because he worked about sixteen hours a day on every other damn thing. Trying to snap out of my funk, I grabbed a platter and set it in front of him. He tipped the cookie jar as if to dump them out, but I took it from him. “They’ll be crumbs if you do it like that.” I lifted the cookies one by one onto the plate.
“Don’t panic yet, okay?” Griff said quietly as I worked.
“All right,” I grunted.
“Everything might work out okay. She just needs a friend.”
“Just a friend.”
Griff sighed. “That isn’t what I meant. Just keep being there. Don’t change a thing. Hey—do you know how to make coffee? I offered to do that.”
“Seriously? And they let you?”
