She covered her face as the sudden onslaught of sobs shook her body.
“Desi…” Rachel was immediately at her side, gathering her in her arms. “It’s going to be all right. I swear it will. All that stuff is replaceable. I know you’re aching inside, but imagine the world without you in it.” She hugged her tighter.
“I…I haven’t felt this kind of emptiness since…Lincoln.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed hard. “After him, all I had was my work. I poured all the love I had for Lincoln into building my shop, painting, and…my first show.” She stifled a sob. “Now I have nothing.” She turned to look into the eyes of her friend. “Nothing, Rae.”
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled Desiree against her shoulder. Her own heart ached for her friend. All she could do was try to help her through this crisis. Desiree was a strong woman, resilient. All she needed was time to get her feet back under her, and Rachel promised herself that she would do whatever was necessary to make sure she did.
Desiree wandered around Rachel’s apartment like a ghost for the next week, barely speaking or eating. She refused to see Carl at all and when Cynthia came to visit she hardly acknowledged her presence.
* * *
“She doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Cynthia said as she sat in the kitchen with Rachel sipping on a cup of herbal tea. “Maybe she needs to…you know…see someone.”
Rachel frowned. “You mean a shrink?”
“Yes. Maybe it would help. She certainly can’t stay like this. It’s not healthy.”
“Desiree doesn’t need a shrink, she needs to get her spirit back. I’ve seen her go through this before. She’s healing, in her own way, and when she’s ready she will come out of it. I know Desi, nothing will move her until she’s ready to move.”
“Well, not to change subjects, but she needs to really start thinking about her business, the show, finding a way to repay Carl. I can only hold him off for so long.”
Rachel took a deep breath and nodded her head. “She will when she’s ready.”
Cynthia stood. “It really needs to be soon.” She picked up her purse from the oak table. “Take care. And thanks for the tea.”
Rachel didn’t bother to walk her to the door. To tell the truth she was glad she was leaving. Cynthia might very well have Desiree’s best interests at heart, but Rachel had never really cared for Cynthia. She simply tolerated her because of Desiree, who swore she couldn’t run things without her, that she was indispensable. What Rachel really believed was that Cynthia was a no-talent artist who happened to fall into Desiree’s lap at a very vulnerable time in her life and decided to latch on to Desi’s coattails. Maybe the real truth was that she was a bit jealous of Desi and Cynthia’s relationship, she grudgingly admitted. Cynthia had been there for Desiree when she really needed someone—that someone should have been Rachel. But she’d been dealing with her own issues at the time. Building her accessory-design business had taken her out of New York for months on end. She was virtually living in Europe when the fiasco with Lincoln had taken place, not to mention her affair with her Italian lover Claudio, and her on-again off-again relationship with Lucas Scott, which almost consumed her.
Sighing, she pushed herself up from the table. Maybe that’s why she was trying so hard with Desiree, not only because she wanted to see her better, but also to assuage her guilty conscience.
She walked to the dishwasher and put the teacups and saucers in.
“Rae.”
Rachel jumped at the sudden sound of her name, grabbed her chest and turned. “Girl, you scared me out of my panties. Whew.” She closed the door to the dishwasher. “Hungry? I was going to fix something.”
“No, actually, I was wondering if you would mind coming with me to the loft.”
Rachel’s thinly tapered brows rose in surprise. “The loft?”
Desiree nodded. “I think it’s time.”
Rachel took a deep breath and a slow smile spread across her face. “Yeah, it is.”
* * *
When Rachel pulled up in front of what was left of the loft, Desiree’s heart nearly stopped. All of the windows were broken out, debris was everywhere, the remnants of her gallery and paintings were piled in a sooty heap against the front door—destroyed. There was yellow caution tape surrounding the building. It looked exactly like what it was—a disaster.
“Do you want to go in?” Rachel asked with hesitation.
Desiree nodded and slowly got out of the car. She walked toward the entrance and looked up at what had once been her apartment. A chilling flash of that night and the terror she felt raced through her. And for the first time she fully understood just how lucky she really was. She hadn’t been spared to spend the rest of her life wallowing in self-pity, she concluded. She’d been given a chance—maybe to start over, live her life differently, change her focus—she wasn’t sure, at least not yet. But she was certain that she’d been spared for a reason.
She turned to Rachel. “I don’t need to go in. There’s nothing for me in there.”
Rachel placed her hand on Desiree’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“It’s the first thing I’ve been sure about in weeks. Let’s go.”
* * *
Desiree was deathly quiet on the trip back. When they returned to Rachel’s apartment Desiree took a seat on the couch. “Let’s talk,” she said.
Rachel took off her red leather jacket and hung it on the coatrack in the foyer. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I know I’ve been a real pain in the ass these past few weeks. And you’ve been a really good babysitter. But it’s time for me to get out of here and for you to get back to your life.”
“Desi, you have not been a problem. That’s what friends are for.”
She nodded. “And I truly appreciate it. But it’s time.”
“Where will you go? What will you do?”
Desiree heaved a deep sigh. “I was thinking of going out to the shore for the rest of the summer. Get my thoughts back in order, maybe rekindle an old spark of creativity.” She flashed a weak smile. “What do you think?”
“I think if that’s what you need to do, then you should do it. But where? Actually you could stay at my place in Highland Beach. They’re still doing renovations, but you would pretty much have the place to yourself.”
“No. I’ve imposed on you enough. And I certainly don’t want to be in the way of workmen.”
“I guess you’re right. So where to then?”
“I was thinking Sag Harbor. It’s always so beautiful there this time of year. Remember when all of the sorors ‘summered’ there during our senior year at Howard?” she asked, affecting an aristocratic accent.
Rachel laughed at the
