“If the doctors say he’ll be okay, then he’ll be okay,” Bobbie said with unjustified certainty. “You have to have faith.”
“Faith in what?” I said. My temperature rose and anger at the unfairness in the world took over. “Faith in the world that took my mom from me the day I was born? Or faith in the world that took Blitz Manners on his twenty-sixth birthday? Or how about my dad, who’s in the hospital for a second heart attack? Where am I supposed to put my faith, Bobbie? Everywhere I look, I see people suffering who shouldn’t be.”
“Listen to me,” she said. Her voice was steady and strong. “Focus on the sound of my voice and listen to me, because I have something important to say to you and I want to make sure you hear it.” Bobbie had always been the one person who could adopt a calm tone to counter my emotional outbursts, and today was no different. “Are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay. Here’s what I want you to think about: the universe gives you the lessons you’re supposed to learn.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning there’s a reason this is happening. You’re in a class called Life and this is a midterm. Figure out what you’re supposed to learn, and then everything will make sense.”
“But none of this is about me,” I said.
“It’s your life, Margo, and that makes it partially about you.”
The doors to the restaurant opened and Ebony walked out. She balanced a cardboard drink carrier loaded with two beverages and three bags on her hip. Her medallion swung from side to side. Large sunglasses were propped on her head on top of the copper scarf. It had gotten too dark for sunglasses, and as I suspected, she’d been wearing them to hide the now-visible redness around her eyes.
“Bobbie, I have to go.”
“Wait. There’s something you should know before you get back.”
“What?”
“Tak Hoshiyama was looking in the windows of your store when I went out there to check on you. He was worried about you too. I think maybe you and he should talk.”
“I don’t see that there’s anything to talk about.” Ebony pulled open her door and set the food and beverages inside. Ivory smelled the food. He charged across the front seat, putting his paws on Ebony as she bent down. His paw got caught in her chain.
“I have to go,” I said again.
“Call me when you get home.”
I stole a glance at Ebony. She’d freed Ivory’s paw and was now feeding him a piece of hamburger patty. I looked in the other two bags and found my French fries. As healthy as I tried to be (don’t let the Fruity Pebbles fool you—they’re gluten free and high in vitamin D), I had a weakness for potato products. Potassium, I told myself.
Ebony finished her own burger and Ivory and Soot nibbled on theirs. We wasted twenty minutes in the backing-up-with-a-trailer process before leaving the parking lot and getting back onto the road. Ebony found her rhythm behind the wheel faster this time. The mile markers told me we were fifteen miles outside of Proper.
“You haven’t told me everything, have you?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
She put on her blinker and checked her side mirror several times before changing lanes. Three cars passed us on the wrong side. “Can’t see with those darn aliens on our tail,” she muttered.
“Ebony,” I prompted.
“I think we’ve had just about enough with the trip down memory lane for tonight,” she said. “Besides, what good is it going to do?”
I sat back against the leather seat. Soot and Ivory had curled up on the seat between us. The excitement of a road trip had tired them out enough that they coexisted in sleep. I stroked one, then the other. Something had happened when we were at the rest stop. Ebony had been moved to confide in me after our visit with my dad, but now she was closed up again.
It was the phone call. It had to be. But who had called her? And why? And what did it have to do with her connection to Blitz Manners or his family?
Ebony pulled her Caddy up to Disguise DeLimit and let the engine idle. I was about to ask her if she wanted to come in when she spoke quietly.
“It was the early ’90s. I almost lost Shindig,” she said. “I was in debt up to my eyeballs. Living on advances from my credit cards so I could keep the store afloat. People were turning to big chain stores to get whatever they wanted for their parties and all of a sudden, having a novelty party store in a small town wasn’t the best investment in the world. I had two choices: close my doors and sell off everything I owned or ask an old friend for help.”
“You went to Brody Manners,” I said.