know, a teenage boy. There’ve probably been countless deaths in that vein. We can’t shut down. Life has to go on for the living.”
“You get an F for subtlety.”
“It wasn’t a dig, Zoey.” Mitch stared out the windshield, concentrating on something personal. From nowhere he said, “How’s it feel to be rich?”
“I couldn’t tell you. I have yet to partake in frivolous spending.” Thinking about the money twisted her stomach. Everything had happened so fast. Milo’s death, the call about an uncle she’d never met hanging himself, the transfer of funds—the timing—like some kind of cash compensation for the loss of her son. A sick joke.
“How much did you inherit, exactly?”
“You were there. You know how much.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve acted as if you’ve inherited a bag of rusted pots and pans.”
“Six million.”
“Wow.”
“Money wasn’t a problem before Amos. I did fine. We did fine.”
“We also budgeted and saved. If you invest wisely, you’ll never have to worry about bills again. That’s huge. Most people would cut off a toe for that luxury.”
“Am I supposed to feel guilty?”
“No, but you will and you shouldn’t. It’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to put a book of images together. A coffee table hardback. Now you can.” The book idea had died with her son. That person, the woman with dreams and hopes, was a sensitive topic. She intentionally switched subjects. “Do you need money? Is that what this is about?”
“No, I don’t need your damn money.” He shook his head. “I’d hoped there’d be a dollar amount that would make you human again, but if lightning couldn’t do it…”
“Eat my ass!”
“Calm down.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You got a chill pill in any of those bottles on your nightstand?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
“I didn’t go near your drugs.” He paused. “Okay, I did, to read the labels. You’re taking diuretics?”
“I am?”
“You’re not. I had to prove a point.”
“What do you know? I’m sitting next to a flea.” She didn’t give a shit if she took the wrong pills, but he wouldn’t understand.
Mitch laughed emphasizing the elongated dimple carved in his right cheek, a trait Zoey always found masculine and sexy. Slightly stimulated, she turned away.
Fluffy clouds thinned across a powder blue palette, and at ground level in the side mirror, Telluride minimized. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, enraptured by darkness.
“Your hero,” Mitch said, apparently unaware she’d been sleeping.
She jerked awake and followed his finger. He pointed to an Austin stone mansion with iron gates and a freshly paved driveway.
“Kane Ballentine,” he said, “the neighbor who brought you to the hospital. That’s his house.”
“You met him?”
“He came to visit while you were getting an MRI. He wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“How thoughtful.”
“It’s because of him you’re alive.”
“Yippee. I’m thrilled. Stuck on this dingy planet and I have him to thank. Joy.”
“You’re warped. Where was I? He said if you needed anything not to hesitate to ask.” Mitch tapped the wheel with his thumb. “He wore a Rolex. Seemed like a nice guy.”
“Who the hell cares?”
“I do. Contrary to your illusions of independence, you’ve taken full advantage of our closeness. You’ve called every other day, lawn mower broke, can’t find your house key, too buzzed to drive, and I’ve been there for you. But that’s about to change. You’re out here in the middle of bumfuck by yourself and, sorry to sound fatherly, but I’m glad your neighbor isn’t a prick.”
“The neighbor you barely know is a nice guy, and I’m warped. That’s it, I’m buying a Rolex.”
“While you’re at it, buy a new camera and take some pictures. It relaxes you.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am. Pain pills, babe.”
“Not the same, you’re masking—”
“Let’s not go there. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mitch. You have your job and girlfriend and a life, and I have memories of a job, a man and a life. It sucks and I don’t know how to change it, but I know without a doubt that I don’t want to be pushed, bullied or manipulated into giving up the only thing getting me through the day.”
“And you don’t see a problem with that?”
She angled her head, moving her ponytail in front of her injured shoulder. “Of course I do, but it’s where I’m at. I don’t want to hear another negative comment about my bad habit. I’m not stupid. I rely on my pills too much. I know this. And when I’m ready to deal with it, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I worry about you.”
“I know. Don’t. I’ll be fine.”
Mitch drove up the sandy maroon road toward her house. He swung a left, parked in front of the closed garage and turned off the motor. He gazed at her face. “Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”
“No. And don’t bother. I’m listening, though.”
“You do, you look great. A little starved, but great.”
“Starved?”
“You’re too skinny. Eat something.”
“You can drop a note in the suggestion box on your way out.” She tore at a split fingernail.
“Now, if you were a rabbit,” Mitch cocked his head at both clustered and scattered vegetation on the hilltops. “You’d have plenty to eat. Bergamot, wallflowers, wheatgrass, juniper.” He smiled. “Why don’t you let me pick you a salad?”
Zoey put on her shoes.
“Hey,” Mitch said. “Scenic atmosphere for a photographer.”
“Isn’t
