Acting from sheer impulse, Stefan had driven to the airport early yesterday morning before class. His mother always parked at Fine Airport Parking when she went out of town. He drove up and down every row of the parking lot, looking for her yellow Cadillac. It wasn’t there. Had she arrived back in town, and then driven somewhere else? Or had she even flown at all? Maybe it was a short trip, and she had driven her car, in which case she never went to the airport. But Rosa had said she was on her way home, so why wasn’t she there yet? Should he check at the store and see if her car was parked in the parking lot?
Stefan bit his lip, chastising himself for being such a worrier. His mother had been taking care of herself for a long time. She was capable of dealing with her problems. She knew he was available, if she needed help. What else could he do? Nothing.
The next morning, he was up early, reading over his notes for Contracts class and sipping coffee. His cell phone rang.
“Stefan Eberhardt?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Kevin Miller from Miss Jackson’s. I am trying to reach Rosa, and I thought you might know how to get hold of her.”
Stefan’s mouth went dry. “Where did you send her?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Something was definitely wrong. Kevin never called him.
“She’s been on vacation, and then she was going to the Buyer’s Market in Dallas,” Miller said. “She was supposed to be back in the store yesterday morning for an 8:00 staff meeting, and she didn’t show. That’s not like her. She’s usually so punctual. I asked around, and no one has heard from her. She hasn’t picked up her voice mail. So I’m just following through to see if there’s anything wrong.”
“I haven’t heard from her,” Stefan told him. “I’ve been concerned, too. She called me a couple of days ago, on her way home. I don’t think she ever made it.” What vacation? Rosa hadn’t mentioned a vacation.
“Well, it could be that she was detained in Dallas. That happens. She has to meet with manufacturers, wholesalers … you know the drill. Could be she forgot about the staff meeting. I’m not ready to send out the dogs yet.” Miller chuckled. “After all, Rosa is a busy woman. She gets involved in projects and it’s not unusual for us not to touch base for a month. I’ve been gone a lot myself.”
Did Rosa have a boyfriend? Why hadn’t she told Stefan about her vacation?
“I’ll go over to her house and scout around, see what I can find out,” Stefan said. “Your number will be on my cell phone, so I’ll call you back if I find out anything.”
Stefan hung up the phone and stared at it. Sure, Rosa was strong, but what if she was in trouble? Hadn’t it sounded like she was in trouble, the last time he talked to her?
Stefan’s father, Max, had been killed in a motorcycle accident a few months before Stefan was born. A car had swerved in front of him, causing Max to hit his brakes hard and slide sideways into the vehicle. His injuries were so extensive that he died instantly. As a result, Rosa was the only family Stefan had. Rosa’s parents lived in Hamburg and did not speak English. Max’s parents, who had never been friendly to Rosa, did not stay in touch and no one knew where they were. Rosa had moved to the United States when Stefan was a baby and became a U.S. citizen. A significant settlement was paid by the driver who killed Max. Rosa banked the money for Stefan’s education. He’d finished his undergrad studies, and was now enrolled in law school. Thanks to Max, whom he had never met, and Rosa’s wise investments, Stefan had enough for his education and just about anything else he really wanted.
Stefan took out his billfold and extracted an old snapshot his mother had given him. It was the only picture of his father he had. It was a bright day. Max and Rosa, dressed casually, were standing in the doorway of the Red Ox Inn in Heidelberg, their arms around each other. Their faces were partially shaded by the door frame. Stefan had never clearly seen what his father looked like. Rosa said, “See, he looked like you, tall and blonde and handsome.” Although their faces were dim, you could see that they both had wide smiles. That’s how Stefan always thought of his parents, young and happy, standing in the sun that day in Heidelberg, starting out their lives together.
Where was Rosa? Stefan felt like screaming, or throwing something. He tossed his papers into a briefcase and hurried out the door.
11
Erin woke up Saturday morning paralyzed by a fresh wave of fear, and the familiar triage of hollow pain, dread, and anxiety. After Lydia and Kristy left, she’d curled up in a ball on the living room sofa and had been there ever since. Pale winter sun poured through the tall windows in the living room, spilling across the hardwood floors. A glass and steel clock Liz had bought in Denmark hummed on the fireplace mantle. It was eight o’clock. How can this house be so empty? She still could not grasp the fact that Liz would never be on Earth again.
Erin ticked off the post-Liz differences in her life. No more Christmas parties, where they made egg nog and sat around the fire listening to the Carpenters Christmas album. No more trips to Puerto Vallarta at Thanksgiving. No more catching up on the phone every other day. No more shopping for birthday surprises for her mother. No more deliveries of hot chicken soup from Lucky’s when she was down with a cold. No more long lunches. That last one was especially painful. If she’d known that was their last lunch, she would have stayed much longer. No, in reality, she would not have gone to lunch at all.
Erin’s thoughts ran the spectrum and circled back to this: It was her fault, entirely, that her mother was dead. There was no getting around it. If she hadn’t asked her mother to lunch, she wouldn’t be sleeping in an empty house full of useless things — things Liz would never again need because she was gone forever. Erin cried silently, eventually cascading helplessly into violent, gut-wrenching sobs. Then she fell silent, thinking about what lay ahead for her.
She turned onto her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Should she sell the house? The lease on her apartment wouldn’t be up until Spring, so she could put that decision off for a while. In the meantime, she would stay here. She needed to come to grips with her loss and, as a practical matter, sort through Liz’s possessions. Kristy’s uncle Dan, who was working on Liz’s estate, told her she was entitled to take something called “FMLA leave.” She could be gone from work up to 12 weeks, and they couldn’t fire her for being gone. Erin’s boss, Robert Vincent, knew this law, too, and he’d been careful not to overtly pressure her to come back to work. He was probably fuming that she’d taken more than a half day off to handle this. She needed to decide whether to cremate Liz and what kind of memorial service to have. The police warned her that they might not be able to release the body for as much as two weeks, maybe even longer.
Last night’s visit from Lydia had been a surprise. Because of Liz’s travels, she did not attend church much, but when she was in town, it was an important part of her life. She’d even volunteered in a language translation program. Did Liz know Lydia? Whether or not the two women knew each other, they must have a lot in common because they’d chosen the same church. That felt somehow comforting to Erin. She wanted to maintain the connection to Lydia.
Liz didn’t have too many friends. Actually, thinking about it, Liz had no close friends, just a few acquaintances. And although several of them called when the news covered the story, none had come around. Just Lydia.
It was unimaginable to Erin not to have friends. She wondered if her mother ever missed that aspect of life. Sure, Liz spent most of her social time with her, and the rest of the time went to her career and travels, but looking back—was it enough? Erin closed her eyes for a moment. She probably didn’t have the time and energy required for close