Soledad fixes a stony look on the phone in her husband’s hand, her mouth set into a flat line. After a second, she glances away from him and catches me staring. Her expression brightens, shifts to the usual sweetness. What is she hiding? What’s she holding? I recognize the strain of keeping things together in public. It only works for so long before you fall apart. I speak as someone who fell apart rather spectacularly and publicly the last few years. I take her hand under the table and squeeze. Even if she isn’t ready yet to share what’s going on, I hope she knows Hendrix and I will be here when she is.
“All right.” I push my chair away from the table and stand. “I’ll be back, but if I get caught up and don’t make it before midnight, toast without me.”
“Can I still sleep over at Lupe’s?” Deja asks. “Kassim’s staying at Jamal’s.”
“If it’s okay with you, Sol?” I raise my brows in query.
“Oh, fine with me,” Soledad says.
“I can take all the girls home with me right at midnight,” Edward offers. “If you want to stay behind and hang with Hendrix and Yasmen, Sol.”
That seems awfully magnanimous from the man who usually does the bare minimum to help out. The thought must also occur to Soledad because her eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Sure,” she says, the word sprinkled with saccharin. “How kind of you to offer, honey.”
“You work so hard,” he tells her. “I always want to make sure you have time for you.”
“Bullshit,” Hendrix coughs into her hand. “Sorry. Something went down the wrong way.”
Them lies he’s telling.
Hendrix and I both know. I just hope Soledad does too. I’ve never liked him. Something tells me we shouldn’t trust him either.
“Well, if it’s gonna be grown girls only,” Hendrix says, “let’s crash at my place. All this drinking I’m planning on doing, I didn’t even drive here. I walked, so we can hightail it together back to my spot and swing by the fountain on our way.”
“Oh, yeah. I haven’t done the New Year wishes in a long time,” Soledad says.
Every New Year’s Eve, people gather around the fountain to toss in their coins, hoping for a great return in the coming year.
“I got my coins ready,” I say. “Let me make sure everything’s okay, but we’ll hook up.”
I step carefully down the circular staircase to the bottom floor. The party is alive, the music pulsing like a heartbeat through the speakers, the crowd swelling as more people pass through the doors. We are wall-to-wall, and I make a note to check capacity. Last thing we need on the biggest night of the year is to get shut down. Knowing Josiah, he’s on top of that. I haven’t seen him tonight, but he’s probably in the kitchen more than usual. With all the preparations for the party, the long hours here with the holiday crowds, and moving forward on the Charlotte expansion, we’ve barely seen each other since he came over on Christmas Day. That morning lingers in my mind, though. The two of us eager, watching our kids tear into their gifts and squeal and scream their pleasure. Him at the stove with sweater sleeves pushed up over his forearms while he cooked Byrd’s famous sweet potato pie pancakes. We’d eaten our weight in breakfast, laughed and talked, Josiah at one end of the table, me at the other. It felt like old times. Even better in some ways. It felt right…until he went home and I slept in my cold bed alone.
When I reach the main floor, Cassie, wearing her chef’s uniform and a New Year’s party hat, stands at the bar chatting with the bartender.
“Happy New Year, Boss,” she greets with a warm smile.
“We got…” I glance at my watch. “Another thirty minutes before the year goes new. Don’t rush it now. How’s everything going?”
“Smooth.”
“Everyone seems to be eating up the specials. You and Vashti did a great job with the menu.”
“Glad they like ’em,” Cassie replies, nodding her satisfaction.
“Well, lemme go make sure we have enough champagne for the big toast. See you later.”
I thread my way through the thickening crowd, but I get stopped every few steps. The whole neighborhood seems to be happy I’m back this year. That careful look they used to give me when I first lost Henry—when I fell and couldn’t get back up, not just here with a loose floorboard, but during the long months that followed—that look is gone. I clear the dining room and stand at the threshold of the hall. I pause.
It’s a night for new beginnings. I pull out the necklace tucked beneath my dress and stare at another relic. My wedding ring looped onto a chain with the wheel charm Josiah gave me for our anniversary. I flip over the charm, reading the inscription on the back.
“Till the wheels fall off.”
Foolish woman, wearing it tonight. Wearing it ever, but especially tonight, when I have to see Josiah. I tuck the necklace and charm back beneath my dress. It’s not a night to look back, but somehow I hadn’t been able to help myself.
The dining room is all laughs and music, but the kitchen is contained chaos. Vashti is running things, barking instructions, her usually soft voice rough with use and urgency. For the people who attend, it’s the biggest party of the year. For our waitstaff and kitchen crew, it’s the busiest.
“Everything okay?” I ask her. “You need anything?”