“You know she’s gone, right? She passed early last week. I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“I know.” Nora was suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of antiseptic and boiled eggs, chlorine with an undercurrent of staleness. It made her unaccountably sad. Lorelei had died here. Alone. The thought was enough to make her want to throw things, to pick up the heavy vase of silk flowers on the corner of the reception desk and hurl it at the Pollyanna-perfect Thomas Kinkade print behind Anika’s head. She imagined the sound it would make, the way the glass would shatter and rain down in a thousand pieces.
Nora had loved Lorelei in her own way. She had been a strong woman. Brave and quiet and unflagging in her devotion to Tiffany. It wasn’t Lorelei’s fault that her niece was detached and desperate, defined by the death of a woman that she had barely known. Tiffany prickled at affection. Rebelled every chance she got. Marked Lorelei’s life with worry and disappointment. It wasn’t fair.
Nora set aside her respect for Tiffany’s surrogate mother and offered Anika a half smile. She leaned forward, trying to seem conspiratorial. “I’m actually just wondering if Tiffany has been by to collect her mother’s belongings. Or maybe I could talk to one of the nurses who was here? Could you tell me who was with Lorelei when she died?” Apparently Nora wasn’t very good at separating her emotions about Lorelei’s passing from the task at hand. She wanted to know everything.
“Did you stay in contact with Tiffany Barnes after high school?” Anika asked, ignoring Nora’s questions. “I didn’t think you two were friends anymore. Not after that fight.”
Nora resisted the urge to groan. She had almost forgotten how small towns worked. The rumors and narrow-mindedness. The way that everybody knew everything about everyone. Who cared? Lorelei was gone. And all that nonsense had been a lifetime ago. “Yeah,” she said, trying not to be snide. “We’re still friends. Have you seen Tiffany lately?”
“Nope.” Anika popped her lips on the word, the sound an indictment of Tiffany’s inherent defects. We always knew she was a bad apple, Anika’s look implied. Which means, by association, so are you.
“Look, it’s kind of important. Can I talk to whoever was with Lorelei at the end?”
“No one was with her.” Anika examined the chewed ends of her ragged fingernails. “She died in the middle of the night and the night nurse didn’t realize it had happened until her body was starting to cool.”
Nora’s mouth felt stuffed with cotton. What a terrible thing to say. What a god-awful way to die. But she pressed on. “And Tiffany hasn’t called or anything?”
“She called every Saturday,” Anika said.
“And who did she talk to?”
“Me,” Anika said, sniffing a little as if the answer should have been obvious. “It’s Saturday today, Nora. Clearly I work the weekend shift.”
It was all Nora could do not to launch herself over the counter to take Anika by the throat. She didn’t remember her being so bitchy. So bitter. But attacking Anika was hardly the way to get the information she wanted. She took a deep breath and tried a different tack. “What did you and Tiffany talk about?”
“You might as well ask me to violate my Hippocratic oath.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“No,” Anika said almost petulantly. “But a private conversation is still a private conversation.”
“Fine.” Nora rubbed her forehead with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. She turned to go, adding as an afterthought: “Thanks for your help.” But, of course, Anika hadn’t been helpful at all.
“Wait.”
Nora could hear the shift and shuffle as Anika came from behind the counter. She faced her former classmate slowly, uncertain whether she had experienced a change of heart or was going to offer some rude parting shot. But Anika’s face was set and unreadable when she took Nora by the arm and pulled her outside. There was a stone bench near a dried-up fountain and Anika hurried there, taking a pack of smokes out of her pocket and lighting up as she walked.
“I’m not allowed to talk about the patients,” Anika said quietly as Nora sat down beside her. She held out the cigarettes and Nora took one even though she didn’t want it. “But it’s just about time for my smoke break.”
“Thanks,” Nora said, because it felt like the right thing to say.
Anika reached over to light Nora’s cigarette and they were quiet for a drag, two, while Anika inhaled deeply and squinted out over the parking lot.
“Tiffany came about two weeks ago.”
“She did?” Nora was incredulous. “You said she hadn’t been by!” She had no idea that Tiffany had made the drive, that she had managed to visit Key Lake without Nora realizing it. Had Donovan known?
“I said lately. Depends on your definition of lately.” Anika blew a perfect ring of smoke and turned to regard Nora. “She knew that Lorelei didn’t have long. Her blood pressure was dropping, her breathing was erratic . . . she had days. I told Tiffany so.”
“And she came to say goodbye?”
Anika fixed Nora with an indecipherable look. “She had a little girl with her.”
Everlee.
Nora didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They had kept Everlee a secret from Lorelei because they thought the truth would be more than she could handle. It had the potential to undo everything they had worked for. But something inside of Nora splintered at the knowledge that Lorelei had met her granddaughter—if only once. She took a long drag on the cigarette in her hand to stop herself from completely breaking down. They hadn’t meant for it to be this way.
“She’s the daughter of a friend,” Nora improvised, her voice cracking.
“Give me a break, Nora. The little girl is Tiffany’s kid. Anyone could see that. Cute as a button, too.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Anika looked around, leaned in. Jabbing her cigarette at Nora, she said: “Because they didn’t come alone. A lawyer met them and closed the door to Lorelei’s room.”
“Roger Estes?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why?”
Anika shrugged. “Only one reason you need a lawyer when you’re dying.”
So stupid.
Nora could have screamed. Could have kicked herself. Lorelei Barnes wasn’t a rich woman, but she had land. Enough of it to set Tiffany and Everlee up for life. Enough of it to make them a target for someone like Donovan Richter.
He didn’t care about his $10,000. He cared about Tiffany’s million.
“I have to go,” Nora said, dropping her cigarette and grinding it out with her heel. Her pulse was galloping, pounding so hard and heavy in her chest she could hardly breathe. She was already several steps away when she remembered that against all odds, Anika had helped her. Had made her realize that nothing was quite what it seemed. Over her shoulder, she said: “Thank you.”
“You’re not the first person to come around asking about Lorelei,” Anika called.
Nora stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” she whispered, turning slowly.