Page 3 of Good as Gold
Oh shit. “I was on a flight, honey. I didn’t see that you called.” The second I’d landed in Burlington, I’d high-tailed it to the rental counter.
“Aflight?” she gasps. “God, I wassoworried. When you didn’t answer my calls, I went over to your place, and I banged on the door. I thought…” She hiccups. “After you canceled the last tours of the weekend... I had theworstidea.” She lets out a sob.
Whoa. After a glance in the rear-view mirror, I step on the brake and pull over onto the shoulder. “Lissa, breathe. What is the matter? Did something happen?”
“No.” She sniffles. “You left me anote, Matteo. It was kind of creepy.”
“It was?” I’d written:I’m sorry to miss our movie night. Love you lots.
In what universe is that creepy? But then I’m struck with an awful idea. “Honey, are you saying you thought I might have…” I swallow. “…killedmyself? Because that isnotin the cards.”
She lets out another sob.
Fucking hell. “Talk to me. Why would you think that?”
“You’ve been so depressed! And they tell us the signs at school. What to watch for.”
I’m in way over my head right now. “Okay, listen up and listen good. Ipromiseyou that if I’m ever in a place that dark, I will do something smart about it. But I’m going to need you to promise me the same thing right now.”
“Okay. I promise,” she whimpers.
“Good.” I scrub my forehead. “Look, I’m sorry to worry you. It’s just that I decided last minute to take a trip.”
“Where are you?”
“Vermont. My brother is getting married tomorrow. I wasn’t going to come, but then I realized last night that I am a huge asshole…”
She lets out a watery laugh. “Not always, though.”
“Thank you, I think. Anyway, I haven’t visited my family in fourteen years. They probably hate me. They might not even let me in the door.”
“That’s not true!” she yelps. “Your sister loves you. Her kids are all over your refrigerator. And I met your mother once.”
Those basic facts are true. When my sister had kids, I started talking to her regularly, and twice I’ve flown my mom out to visit. But I never once came home.
“Let’s just say that it’s not okay to be too busy to visit for more than a decade. So last night I got a wild hair and booked a flight. Then I started packing. My note to you was hasty, but I didn’t mean to give you scary ideas.” I’d slipped the note into their mail slot on my way out of town this morning, when Lissa was at school.
She snuffles. “Okay. I’m still mad you didn’t explain. Mom is worried, too.”
“Tell her I’m sorry. She’s been on my case to go home, though. This is probably her fault, now that I think about it.”
“Figures.” Lissa giggles.
“Aw, don’t tell her I said that.” Poor Cara doesn’t need another thing to worry about. It’s been a devastating few months for all of us. In December, Cara’s husband Sean—who was Lissa’s dad, as well as my best friend and business partner—died in a snowboarding accident.
None of us are over it. We’ll never be over it. Four months later, I still see him every night in my dreams.
“I’m sorry I made you cry,” I tell Sean’s only child.
“Eh, crying is nothing anymore. It’s like breathing.”
I snort. Lissa always surprises me. I’ve known her for most of her life, and there has never been a single moment when she did what I expected her to. “Are you going to be okay?” I put my blinker on, look over my shoulder, and carefully pull back onto the highway toward Colebury.
“Yeah. Just don’tdothat again.”
“Okay. From now on, with any travel arrangements I make, I’ll text you the itinerary.” Honestly, I’d do anything to make this child happy again.
It’s partly my fault she lost her daddy.
