Page 96 of Talk Wicked to Me

“Living his best life.”

“As well he should.”

“Do you want to sit down for a minute?” She motioned to the other side of the booth.

“Thanks.” Ginger slid into the booth across from her. “I was going to stop by your place later to give you these.” She pulled a few papers out of her purse and held them against her chest. “I’m not trying to be pushy. Okay, maybe I am a little, but only because you’re so talented, and everyone is talking about your doggy biscuits and cookies.”

“No, they aren’t.” Emerson shook her head, smiling.

“Yes, they are. You sent cookies with Baz to his club meeting last week, and everyone wants more.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought he was just saying that to make me feel good.”

“No, sweetheart. He’s telling you the truth. People are calling me, like they do with everything that has to do with Dark Knights families, wanting to know how they can order some. Gabe said she and Elliott asked if you wanted to start selling your cookies here, and Mads told me about Brandy’s offer. So why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, but I spoke to Brandy last week, and…” She turned her laptop toward Ginger.

Ginger scanned the screen, her eyes lighting up. “You’re doing it?”

“I’m looking into it and getting a little excited about it.”

“Good, because I was worried I’d seem pushy when I gave you these.” She handed Emerson the papers.

Emerson skimmed them. They were the requirements for becoming a cottage food producer in Massachusetts. “This is awesome. Thank you. There are so many different things to look up. It’ll be easier to have it all in one place so I can read through it in the evenings.”

“I’d be happy to help you with the process.”

“I might just take you up on that.” She tucked the papers into the baby bag.

“I hope you do. If it were up to me, every woman would be her own boss. I know you’re already your own boss, but this could be a fun side gig. Or maybe one day editing will become your side gig.”

“I guess time will tell. How is the planning coming along for the rally?”

“Gabe makes getting ready easy. She’s so organized. Rodd’s band is going to play. I love coordinating with the community. Everyone gets excited to pitch in for events that help others. Local artists and businesses have been donating services and products for a silent auction to raise money for the program, and every year friends get up to share memories of Ashley and of loved ones they’ve lost. And at the end, we all sing ‘Just the Way You Are’ by Bruno Mars to honor the people we’ve lost, and the ones we still have.”

“That’s beautiful. I wish I had something to offer beyond baking.”

“Just being there is a bigger gift than anything that can be auctioned off. And if you’d like to get up and say something about your parents, we all welcome that. The event might be in support of raising awareness about suicide, but the intent is to help people who have lost someone. It’s a coming together of support for everyone.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I’m up to that, but I’m in awe of your family’s strength, to bring everyone together and do the rally every year. I can’t even bring myself to open the boxes that have my parents’ belongings in them, and that’s in the privacy of my own home.”

Compassion shimmered in Ginger’s eyes. “Oh, honey.” She reached across the table and covered Emerson’s hand with her own, squeezing it reassuringly. “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t really know. I think I’m afraid of what I’ll find, and of what I won’t. Once I open the boxes, there’s nothing else left to anticipate about them, and that seems so final.”

“I understand that feeling. It’s like when we went through Ashley’s room. That felt like our final steps, too. But it wasn’t. The things we found revived memories we’d forgotten or tucked away. Not all of them were good memories, either. Ashley was headstrong, like our boys, and going through her things brought back some difficult memories. But they were important, too. They reminded us of her strength and her need for autonomy, which are two things we loved about her. Those harder memories made the good ones that much sweeter.”

A lump formed in Emerson’s throat. She put her hands in her lap, worrying them. “I was a headstrong teenager, too. My mom and I had a fight before I left for Gwen’s the night they were killed.” Her eyes teared up. “I never got to apologize, and I hate myself for it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Ginger sighed. “That’s an awful burden to carry, and I know how heavy a burden that is. Ashley and I went head-to-head several times the day we lost her. I could tell something was wrong, and I made the mistake of trying to pull the reins too tight. She lashed out, and we both said hurtful things that we didn’t mean.” Her voice thickened with emotion. “I thought I’d talk with her the next morning and we’d clear the air like we usually did, but I never got the chance.”

Emerson’s heart hurt for Ginger. “How did you get past that?”

“It wasn’t easy at the beginning. I felt guilty for the things I’d said, but that wasn’t our first fight, and if she’d lived, it wouldn’t have been our last. The thing is, my love for my children is unconditional. There is nothing any of them could say or do that would change how I feel about them. If they committed a heinous act, I’d be furious and disappointed, but I’d still love them the same way I did before they did it. I have to believe Ashley knew that. The same way I know that if she’d lived, I would’ve found her waiting for me in the kitchen the next morning with a stack of pancakes with I’m sorry spelled out in blueberries or chocolate chips or M&M’s, because that’s what she’d always done.” She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. Thinking about those pancakes gets me every time.”

“It’s okay.” Emerson was wiping her eyes, too. “What is it about not saying you’re sorry out loud that makes it easier? I used to write it on a sticky note and leave it where I knew my mom would find it, and when she did, she’d hug me tight and tell me how much she loved me.” Blinking tears away, she berated herself for the millionth time for the argument and for rushing out that fateful night.

“It sounds like your mother and I were a lot alike. I have to believe she didn’t need an apology any more than I ever needed one from Ashley. Honey, that guilt you’re carrying is understandable, but it’s not necessary.”