Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“You finished the memoir?” Spencer smiled for the first time in what felt like days.
“No. Think that ship has sailed, if you’ll forgive a terrible cliché.” Oscar tried to laugh at himself and ended up coughing again. “But read this, see if there’s anything worth keeping.”
“You never let anyone read a partial,” Spencer protested. He wasn’t ready for this moment, wasn’t at all able to cope with what Oscar was saying, and his hands shook. He had to sit back down to avoid dropping the laptop. And knowing Oscar, this was the only copy. No cloud storage for him.
“I trust you.” Oscar gave a firm nod. “You’ll know what to do with it.”
“You’ll want your machine for when you feel better. Let me see if I can email a copy to myself—”
“Spencer.” Oscar’s voice was firm. “It’s yours now. I insist. We both knew a year ago or so where this was headed.”
“I don’t want you here alone,” Spencer said, voice way more unsteady than Oscar’s. “Let me talk to Julio, move you into my place—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Oscar waved the suggestion away. “Julio is very comfortable in my spare room, and the rest of the hospice team is top notch. My sister’s boys and their families have been visiting regularly. I have lived in this building since 1975 when they opened their doors. This is where I belong.”
“Fine. Then I’m going—”
“To read my chapters. At your own place. Don’t hover, Spencer. That’s Flor’s specialty, not yours.” He punctuated his words with another coughing fit. “My lawyer has everything you’ll need if you decide there’s something usable there. She’ll be in touch regardless.”
“Oscar—”
“Oh, I’m not dismissing you. Julio would be sad if you don’t finish your lunch. And you’ll come again. Give him an excuse to order from the deli again—I think he’s sweet on the counter boy, but of course he won’t tell me.”
“Of course not.” Spencer’s throat was thick. “He knows you’re a hopeless old gossip.”
In fact the opposite was true—Oscar was someone he’d trust with any secret, and he’d held countless people’s confidences over the years. But teasing him was about all Spencer had left. They chatted a while longer, but then Oscar drifted off mid-remembrance about the good old days of typewriters and smoking at the office.
“It may not be much longer,” Julio said as he showed Spencer out. Spencer cradled the laptop with more care than he’d shown Oscar’s crystal. “I’ll keep you posted, okay?”
“Okay.” Spencer didn’t trust himself to say anything else. In the car, he reached for his cell phone and had started typing before he remembered that he couldn’t reach out to Del. Couldn’t tell him about Oscar. He’d been so focused on taking care of Del that he hadn’t noticed all the ways that Del took care of him—listening to him about his worries for Oscar or his troubles with a story, being a warm bulk to lean on, both figuratively and literally. And now that was gone, and he felt that loss acutely, a blanket for the chaos that was his life that he was never getting back.
Oscar hadn’t pushed him on why he’d broken up with Del, had seemed resigned to it, in fact. This was just who Spencer was, what he did. Trusted journalist. And Oscar was entrusting him with his legacy. He should be proud of that. Feel validated as a friend and a journalist. But it wasn’t the journalist who missed Del with every fiber of his being. And as he drove away, it wasn’t the journalist who cried, wasn’t the journalist who grieved for what he couldn’t have, wasn’t the journalist who tried to bargain with the universe for a different outcome for all of them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You know, for a guy who doesn’t like kids, you certainly end up around them a lot,” observed Wizard’s husband, Isaiah, as he prepared a snack tray for the kids playing in the living room.
“It was the least I could do. Monica was in a jam. They’re moving Donaldson from the surgical floor the psych unit, and she needs to be there.”
“So Uncle Bacon to the rescue?” Isaiah laughed. “And last I checked, you didn’t much care for Donaldson.”
Bacon made sure none of the kids were around before speaking. “Oh, he’s still pretty awful. But his wife is the sweetest woman. Way more tolerant than his stupid-ass opinions. And he’s been my teammate for almost a decade now. I can’t just walk away from that.”
“You’re a good guy.” Isaiah finished setting out the snacks. “Now prepare for the hungry horde.”
Bacon might be a good guy, but his time in the military had also taught him when to call for reinforcements. As soon as he’d landed babysitting duty, he’d called Isaiah and begged to come over with the kids. He’d made sure Monica was cool with that arrangement, and after her okay, he’d had the very surreal experience of booster seats in his truck for the first time.