Lisa Jackson - Most Likely To Die

Spotting her old friend perusing the wall of famous caricatures just inside the entrance at Sardi’s on Forty-fourth Street just off Broadway, she stopped short and took in the sight of her.

She had the same dark curly hair, the same crinkly hazel eyes that widened in delight when she turned and saw Lindsay.

“Oh my God! Look at you!” she squealed, hurrying over to embrace her. “You’re so sophisticated!”

“I am?” Lindsay looked down at the trim black suit she still wore from a long day at the office. There had been no time to run home and change.

“God, yes! Especially standing next to me!” Aurora had a point, but Lindsay would never admit it to her.

Slightly overweight in a bright colored dress, sheer tan panty hose, and a pair of low-heeled white pumps that were at least a few years old, her friend fit right in with the hordes of tourists crowding the lobby area of the famous restaurant.

“You look terrific, Aurora,” Lindsay told her. Maybe not sophisticated, but who cared about that? Her old friend truly was a breath of fresh air, and Lord knew she needed one tonight.

“Oh, come on, I’m an old frump. I’m going to be a grandmother before the year is out, you know. I never thought I’d live to see the day, but here it comes.”

“I know-congratulations! Where’s Tina?” Lindsay looked around for Aurora’s daughter. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She couldn’t come at the last minute. Poor thing. She was absolutely wiped out after all the shopping we did today. Neither of us are used to so much walking, but it really did Tina in. When you’re pregnant, you’re pretty much exhausted through the whole first trimester,” she added unnecessarily.

How well Lindsay knew that.

She remembered how hard it was to get out of bed for school when her alarm went off on weekday mornings as their senior year dragged on, and the numbing fatigue that often nearly caused her to fall asleep in class.

But of course, Aurora didn’t know about any of that.

And she appeared to feel sorry for poor, childless Lindsay now, as they waited for their table. She sounded almost apologetic as she chatted about her impending grandchild.

They were seated more quickly than Lindsay expected, thanks to changing their existing reservation from three people to two. She had been prepared to slip a big tip to someone if necessary to secure a good table, but they landed one anyway.

“Look at this place!” Aurora marveled, spreading her napkin in her lap and gazing at the portraits that lined the walls of the large main-floor dining room. “I’ve always wanted to eat here. Is the food good?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted Lindsay, who favored out-of-the-way restaurants in the Village and Tribeca.

“You must eat out all the time, though,” Aurora said a little wistfully, “living here in Manhattan, being in your business.”

“I do eat out a lot,” she said just as wistfully, imagining Aurora presiding over cozy family dinners in a suburban kitchen back in Oregon.

She wondered what it would be like to be married to someone you had loved for all those years, to have a family and grow old with him…

Could there be anything more precious in the whole wide world?

No, there couldn’t.

Lindsay just hoped Aurora knew how lucky she was.

Grimly, she cast aside the thought of Wyatt and Leo. Again.

They’d been haunting her all day, but she had already decided she wasn’t going to let tomorrow’s looming confrontation intrude upon her evening with Aurora.

They ordered white wine, chatted amiably, and studied their menus.

“What do you think prix fixe is?” Aurora asked, pronouncing the French phrase as if it rhymed.

When Lindsay gently corrected her, hoping she wouldn’t be embarrassed, Aurora burst out laughing at herself.

“Do you think anybody overheard me?” she asked, sneaking a peek at the diners occupying adjacent tables.

Lindsay took a quick look around. “Nah.” They were mostly older couples and families of tourists, all engrossed in conversations of their own. A large blond woman was dining solo at the next table over and had her back to them, but who cared if she, or anyone else, had been privy to Aurora’s gaffe?

“God, I’m such a bumpkin. I don’t know how you managed to move here and fit in so well, Lindsay.”

“I’ve been here twenty years, and you are not a bumpkin. You’re a sweetheart who happens not to speak French.”

Aurora grinned. “Or who tries, and ends up talking about pricks in a fancy restaurant.”

Yes, she really was a breath of fresh air, Lindsay thought, glad she had made time to meet her old friend. As she nibbled her smoked salmon appetizer, she found that she didn’t even have to do much talking, as was always the case in Aurora’s company.

Aurora munched and chatted her way through her tomato-basil-mozzarella salad, talking animatedly about her family. Then, as they sipped their Merlot, waiting for the entrees to arrive, she changed the subject to the upcoming reunion-and Haylie’s death.

“I heard about it from Kristen,” Lindsay said, twirling the stem of her glass back and forth in her fingers. “I can’t believe it.”

“Nobody can. Eddie told me when I called home this morning that they arrested someone last night,” Aurora said unexpectedly.

Lindsay lowered her goblet. “Who was it?”

“Do you remember Louie Blake?”

She shook her head. “Should I? Did he go to school with us?”

“No!” Aurora wrinkled her nose. “Please, he’s got to be in his late forties, at least. He’s a bum, basically. He’s been hanging around the streets for years, getting into trouble. I guess you must have been gone by the time he showed up, though.”

“He killed Haylie?” Lindsay asked, relieved not just that they had someone in custody but that it was no one connected to high school, or Jake.

“They think so. He was caught trying to use one of her credit cards at a liquor store, and they found out that he had a bunch of stuff he must have stolen from her apartment.”

“Poor Haylie.”

“I know…I feel guilty that I didn’t go after her with Kristen the night she freaked out and ran out of the reunion meeting. Not that Kristen managed to catch up with her and calm her down anyway. Did she tell you what happened?”

“Kristen? She just said that Haylie was still really upset over Ian and Jake after all these years.”

“Right. She made a big scene, accusing us all of ridiculous things, and took off. It was awful. And I feel so sorry for her, really. I mean, felt.”

They were both silent as they realized, again, that they could only refer to Haylie in past tense from now on.

Aurora added, “She never got over what happened to Ian.”

“I know. Poor Haylie.”

“What about you, Lindsay?”

“What about me?”

“Did you ever get over what happened to Jake?”

About to sip her wine, Lindsay found herself taking a gulp instead. She looked around, wishing the waiter would show up with their meals.

“I don’t like to talk about that, really, Aurora,” she said. “It was so traumatic.”

“Of course it was. God, I’m so sorry I even brought it up. I guess I just wanted to know that you were okay. You know, that you had moved on. Because you moved away right after and you never really came back, and I figured that was why.”

Right. That was probably what everyone thought, that she had left for New York because she was distraught over Jake’s murder. And who would blame her?

They were broken up, but she was still widely regarded as the bereaved girlfriend, much to Kristen’s dismay-and barely concealed resentment.

“It was hard to get over what happened,” she told Aurora now. “But you move on, you know? You have to get on with your life.”