Chapter 4
By the time Kate drove back to her apartment and made it safely to the penthouse she'd rented for the last six years, the letter was practically burning a hole in her purse. She sat her bag on the kitchen counter and pulled the crisp white envelope from inside.
Hope's lovely handwriting looped Kate's name across the front making it almost too pretty to open. She admired it for a moment before sitting it down and taking a breath.
“I'm going to need a glass of wine for this,” she said as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of Pinot. She carefully poured herself a glass and picked up the letter once more. She took a long drink from her glass. “Maybe two...”
When she was finally ready, Kate took her second glass of wine and the letter into her living room and sat down in the middle of her sofa. Sliding her finger under the sealed edge, she opened the envelope and pulled her letter free.
Dear Kate,
Hello from the other side... Honestly, do you think this is what Adele had in mind? I doubt it, but I'm going to run with it. I know that all of this is about as impractical as can be, but you know how much I love to talk. I couldn't just leave you all with nothing.
I'm sure your over-analyzing brain is about to short circuit with all this, but despite what you think you may have figured out about all of this, I promise I wrote each and every letter with all of your best interests in mind. The hardest part of dying is knowing that you're leaving behind people that you love without being able to tell them everything that you wanted. This is my attempt, so please stop trying to predict what I'm going to say, put your inner cynic to bed, and just hear me out.
Kate paused her reading to take a sip of wine. Of course she was trying to judge the outcome of all of this. From what she'd concluded on the drive home, Hope was going to keep everyone from being able to move on. Judging by the size of the box of letters that Greyson now had, Hope planned on dragging this thing out for quite a while. On one hand, Kate was far from ready to let go of her best friend, but on the other, she knew how hard this was going to be—especially for the other people involved. She tried to put those thoughts—the one's Hope was referring to—in the back of her mind as she continued reading.
Now that we have that out of the way. I'm sure you're handling all of this the best. It's who you are. My strong, independent, beautiful best friend. For years, you've been the anchor that's held all of us in place, and as much as we all need it sometimes, I want you to stop. I want you to be able to pull up your grounded roots and be spontaneous. Live a little, Kate. Give up the routine and monotony and be a little wild and carefree.
I want you to put on that red dress that's hanging in the back of your closet and go out on the town (instructions coming soon!). I want you to not focus so much on your career and stop and smell the goddamn roses. Take it from me, life is too short to spend it in a courtroom. You're a success already, give yourself permission to celebrate all you've accomplished and quit worrying about the next rung on the ladder. It's time to find some balance between work and play and enjoy the moments you're missing.
Love,
Hope
“Instructions coming soon?” Kate said when she finished. She flipped over the paper and looked inside the envelope once more to make sure she didn't miss anything. Nothing. Kate sat the letter down and started to shake her head.
Be spontaneous. The thought alone brought on a wave a nausea. Kate lived for routine. She lived for the monotony that Hope wanted her to give up. She took another drink from her wine glass before she let her head fall back on the couch. As she stared up at the ceiling she thought to herself that Hope would never know if she lessened her time in the courtroom. She'd never know if she didn't stop and smell the roses. Hope was gone.
What Kate didn't know was if she'd be able to live with herself if she didn't heed her best friend's final words. Or maybe, there was a little part of Kate that did want to be wild and carefree. Just maybe.
* * *
“What did your letter say?” Willa asked Kate and Vanessa as they all sat down for their weekly lunch. She adjusted her blond ponytail pretending that she hadn't been chomping at the bit to ask them about theirs. Today's ensemble included a retro jean mini skirt and a peasant top that Kate was sure would make her look like a plain as day milk maiden. Willa pulled it off though.
“What did yours say?” Kate countered as she unbuttoned her blazer. She'd been in court all morning and couldn't wait to sit down and slip her heels off under the table.
“I'm not ready to talk about mine yet,” Vanessa said. There weren't many secrets between the three of them, but something about revealing the contents of her letter had her on edge. It was one thing for Hope to be tormenting her about too much work from the grave. It was another to add Vanessa and Willa to the mix. Hearing that she was too stuffy and uptight from living people would have been more than she wanted to deal with.
“Yours?” Kate asked Willa.
“That I was her favorite,” she answered without missing a beat.
“You know, if you put half that wit into a real job you might actually have something,” Kate replied.
“I have a real job,” she said.
“What is it this week?” Kate asked. Every other week it was a new career path for Willa. The girl had a college degree from the University of Illinois in Social Work, but since she'd graduated she managed to do anything but that. She'd been everything from a life coach to an aerobics instructor. She'd slung leggings, lip gloss, and everything in between.
“I've been freelancing as a social media expert.”
“That's a job?” Vanessa chimed in, her lips cinching shut as soon as she'd spoke as if she didn't mean to let it out. “I didn't mean it like it sounded,” she apologized. “I've just never heard of such a thing.”
“It is a real job,” Willa said. “People pay me to teach them how to use social media.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep,” Willa said as proud as a peacock. “Yesterday I taught an old lady how to SnapChat. She paid me eighty bucks plus a tip for an hour's worth of work.”
“Hmm...” Kate's skepticism was evident. “If you have to hire someone to teach you how to use it, maybe you shouldn't have it. At least that's what I tell my mom every time she asks me to help her set up a Facebook account.” She laughed.
“You should have seen how happy she was when she figured out how the puppy filter worked,” Willa added.
“What a fulfilling job,” Kate teased.
“I'm going to call your mom after lunch,” Willa threatened.
“You wouldn't dare...” Kate cringed at the thought of her mother uploading her collection of embarrassing photographs on the web. Even worse than that, was the idea of her mother commenting on her posts.
When are you getting married?
Grandchildren would be nice.
You don't come home enough.
Kate had enough to deal with.
“Try me,” Willa said with a smirk.
“You two argue like an old married couple,” Vanessa said, breaking their standoff.
“If this is what marriage is like I'm glad I've avoided it,” Kate said with a chuckle.
“You'd be lucky to have me,” Willa said just as the waiter arrived to take their orders. Kate rolled her eyes in response.
“Same as last week ladies?” The boyishly handsome waiter said as he greeted them with a smile. Every week he flattered them with compliments and made sure their water glasses were always filled. The man knew how to earn a tip.
“You know it,” Willa said handing him the menu that hadn't even been opened. The waiter took the menu from Willa's hand and then the other two.
“Alright ladies,” he said. “I'll be back with all the appetizers.” Every Friday was their cheat day. The day they went to their favorite spot and shared all of the appetizers on the top of the menu—Mozzarella Sticks, Southwest Wraps, Loaded Nachos, and Fried Green Beans were there perfect way to start a weekend.
“I wish I was married,” Willa said, jumping right back into their conversation. “You're lucky, Ness,” she said. “I'd give anything to be able to not worry about work and be a Trophy Wife.”
“It's not all it's cracked up to be,” Vanessa replied. “Chris and I have been married for four years and sometimes if feels like fifty.” She sighed. “And I kind of miss working.” Kate had always thought that as soon as Vanessa was married, kids would be next, but four years later and Vanessa had yet to mention growing her family.
Kate bit back her comments about Chris when she saw Vanessa shoulders fall. Something was going on with her and judging from her demeanor it had something to do with her picture perfect marriage.
“Well, it beats bouncing around from job to job,” Willa said. “I wish I could find something that I really loved, you know?”
“I do,” Vanessa said, clearing her throat before quickly changing the subject. “Kate's the lucky one. Living your career dream and all.”
“I guess,” Kate said. “Not according to the dearly departed though.” Vanessa and Willa both offered up confused looks. “My letter... Hope seemed to think I work too much. Told me I needed to lighten up and live a little.” Kate waited for her friends to come to her defense, but when they looked at one another and then back at Kate she knew they agreed with Hope. “Seriously? Couple of Katy Perrys,” Kate muttered under her breath. “Now I know exactly how Taylor felt when she had her backup dancers stolen.”
“Don't be so dramatic. It wouldn't hurt you to take some time off every once in a while,” Willa said with a sweet grin trying to soften the blow.
“Or maybe just not work so late every night,” Vanessa said.
“Maybe,” Kate countered, feeling a little ganged up on. “It's just...hard. I love my job and I'm good at it. Going out and socializing, not so much.”
“That's why we’re here,” Willa said.
“Plus it was in my letter to make sure you have more fun,” Vanessa told her.
“Great,” Kate said, dreading all of it.
“Ugh,” Willa huffed. “Your letters had so much more than mine.”
“Sorry,” Kate and Vanessa said in sync.
“I'm supposed to ask you about a little red dress,” Vanessa continued.
“I haven't tried that dress on for years,” Kate argued. “It probably doesn't even fit.” The dress in question was a very sexy, fitted number that Hope had convinced her to buy for her ten-year high school reunion. Of course she didn't end up going—work conflict—and Hope had yet to let her live it down.
“It will fit,” Willa said. “You're in great shape. You've been a size six since I met you.”
“Besides that, we're meeting Greyson at Concordia,” Vanessa said. Concordia was the newest wine bar in town and if you wanted to go you made reservation months in advance. “Hope made the reservations for all of us before... Well, you know.” She just couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
“She's going to literally haunt you if you don't go,” Willa reminded. “You know that right?”
“Oh I know,” Kate answered, wondering if Hope was enjoying this elaborate plan she'd set in motion because she sure wasn't.