“I know about more than Henry the Eighth and his wives—” I started and then stopped. “But carry on.”
“I know you’re still trying to get over your father’s death and you don’t want to go back to work yet, but maybe you can freelance from home?”
“I don’t think that I can do much historical research from home. I mean I can access JSTOR, but I can’t get into any of the archives since they aren’t digital yet. And I’m supposed to help teach a European history class to freshmen at City College this semester. I can hardly hold study groups from my apartment.” I made a face, imagining a bunch of teenage gunners trying to impress me with their knowledge while jammed into my small apartment.
“No,” she groaned, “I meant, maybe you can write movie articles for a living. You already post reviews online sometimes and a colleague of mine has a cousin that does something similar. I could get you some information if you want. I mean, I could lend you some money, but for some reason I don’t think you’ll take it. This is a job you can do from home. I know you love your research assistant job, but I can’t imagine that they’ll wait around for you all semester; I mean, who knows if you’ll really be out for just a couple of weeks.” She touched my shoulder softly. “This is a way to make some money while you still have some time to yourself.”
“You know I could never take your money, Rosie.” I smiled at her gratefully. “But, yeah, maybe I can write some articles. I’ll look it up online.”
“Good. I can’t believe your dad didn’t leave you any money.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “Did he leave you anything at all?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He had nothing to leave.” It was at that point that I should have told Rosie about my father’s letter and his papers, but something stopped me. Maybe it was because I knew she wouldn’t have approved of my turning into a private detective. She knew that I wasn’t the bravest person—at least, I hadn’t been before. But since reading my dad’s letter, something in me had changed. I no longer worried about the creaks in the night, or double-checking my locks. The possibility that my mother’s death had not been an accident had ignited a spark in me that had been lying dormant for years. It reaffirmed to me something I hadn’t felt since I was about to start college. I could still remember the look on my father’s face as he had dropped me off at my dorm, and thinking my dad wanted to tell me something big. I had no idea what it was, but it was something I felt in the depths of my soul. But he never said anything, and I hadn’t asked. I regretted not pushing him now. There were many times in my life that I’d avoided situations or conversations that I thought were going to be awkward or uncomfortable because I’d been scared to find out something that would hurt me. All my life, I’d been too scared to question things that didn’t seem to add up. My father’s letter had affirmed to me that I couldn’t live my life that way anymore. Perhaps if I’d asked those questions when my father was still alive, I wouldn’t be so in the dark right now.
“That’s a shame.” She picked at her salad and looked down. “My father didn’t leave me anything either. I didn’t mind, but my mother was devastated.”
“How is she?” I asked her softly. Rosie rarely talked about her mother, whom I’d never met in all the years that we’d been friends. It seemed that her mother had reacted even more badly to her husband’s death than my father had reacted to my mother’s.
“Same as usual.” Rosie’s eyes looked straight ahead as if she were staring at something. “But let’s not talk about it.”
“How have you been?”
“Good.” She nodded. “I’ve been dating someone.”
“You have?” I looked up at her in shock. “You didn’t tell me. Who is he? Where did you meet him? Oh my god, Rosie, give me the 411!”
“I didn’t want to bring him up after your father got sick.” She shook her head. “It seemed rude to talk about how happy I was when you were going through so much.”
“It’s fine. Now dish.” I gazed at her, eager to hear more about her new guy.
“I’ll tell you more later. Today is about you.” She shook her head. “Now eat up, you’ve only had one bite. You’re going to disappear if you don’t eat.”
“I don’t think there’s any worry of that happening.” I laughed and grabbed a French fry from my plate. “I wouldn’t mind losing twenty pounds, but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“You look great.” Rosie pursed her lips. “You don’t need to lose weight.”
“Uh huh.” I grinned at her. “Just six months ago, you were telling me to join your spin class.”
“Well, you can join once you get back on your feet.” She laughed and tossed her hair back.
“Hey,” I asked her causally, “if you wanted to meet a guy, how would you do it?”