“What does Robert think?”
“He doesn’t know. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Except for me.”
“Except for you.”
She tossed back her head, and her dangly earrings tinkled softly like tiny bells. How could she bear to wear such large earrings with all that hair? As if reading his mind, she combed her left hand through a few stray locks and smoothed them behind her ear. Katherine had fabulous hair, he’d give her that: layered, straight, and auburn, although the color was chemically enhanced.
“What’s your take on Ella’s progress?” she said.
“She seems more distracted than usual. And increasingly less able to do anything.” Was he being disloyal?
“What does Dr. Beaubridge say?”
“That her lack of energy and mobility is normal for class three heart failure.” Felix massaged his forehead, pinching the skin between his thumb and pinkie finger. Another headache was taking root. Most days, it was a toss-up between which bothered him more—his head or his stomach. “Everything is so fucking normal.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you use the f-bomb.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever share my lunch with you.” He pushed the plate toward her; she shook her head.
“Yes, Felix. I’ll talk to Eudora and we’ll figure out a schedule. And I’ll help as much as you need after that. Caregivers burn out quickly, and I have no dependents, not even a goldfish. Use me as backup for whatever.” Katherine raised her cup to her lips and then put it back down. “And the depression? What does Dr. Beaubridge say about that?”
“You’ve noticed it, too?” He helped himself to a forkful of something that looked like deviled ham.
“I’m familiar with the symptoms.”
If they were friends, he would have asked for an explanation. Then again, if they were friends, she would have offered it unsolicited.
“She tells me everything is fine and she’s anxious to get home.” Felix glanced at the empty plate. How had he eaten everything so quickly? “Is that what she’s telling you?”
“Yes, but she needs to talk to Dr. Beaubridge about an antidepressant.”
“Katherine—” Felix tossed down his napkin. “She won’t take any more drugs. Listen, I should head back to the office.”
“Wait.” Katherine reached for his arm. “If I order a piece of chocolate chess pie, would you share it with me?”
“I don’t eat dessert, Katherine.”
“Please? I need to talk to someone who might understand.”
Felix nodded, and she left to order the pie.
She returned moments later with two forks and fresh napkins. Liz followed with a huge slice of dark chocolate pie. Katherine took the first bite.
“Oh God.” She brushed a piecrust crumb from her bottom lip. “This is delicious.”
Felix hesitated, then scooped up thick chocolate with the side of his fork and couldn’t help but agree. It was heavy but light, sweet but slightly bitter. Katherine said nothing else, so he continued until he had eaten what he deemed to be his portion. He put down his fork with a satisfied groan. Her green eyes watched him.
“Did I miss something?” he said.
“I thought you didn’t do dessert.”
He shrugged and tried not to visualize Pater’s bulge.
“I appreciate your not rushing me,” she said.
“My new pastime is waiting for Harry to finish sentences.”
Katherine smiled briefly. “My ex hated delayed confidences. He would have left the café by now. Mind you, marry an asshole and what do you expect?”
Felix wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t.
“I wouldn’t have survived my divorce without Ella,” Katherine continued. “My husband fell in love with another woman and was gone. Fait accompli. Cataclysmic betrayal from a person who was meant to love me no matter what. I fell apart, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me.” She stared down at the lacquered tabletop. “Part of me believed it was my fault, that I wasn’t good enough.”