Page 55 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

Love,

Rachel

Chapter Twenty-Four

In the morning, Veronica crossed the street for pastries and good coffee. Before she returned, she called Henry. “Are you up yet?”

“Long time. How’s the patient?”

“Pretty hungover, but okay. I’m getting good coffee now.” She stepped out of the flow of foot traffic to talk. “I got some of Rachel’s letters last night, and she mentioned Zoish. I would guess it’s the same Zoish Irani who is the proprietor of the South Asian bookshop.”

“Ah, very good. Do you feel comfortable sending them to me?”

“Of course. I’ll send the other notes, too, such as they are.”

“Don’t forget that we have Dishoom tonight. It would be best if we take the tube. It’s a hard neighborhood to park in.”

“Noted.” She hung up. She carried the coffee and bag of pastries back to the room and found a shaky, if showered, Mariah in the sitting room. “Hey,” Veronica said. “How are you?”

“Ugh. Desperately hungover.”

“I have the cure.” She handed her a coffee, then arranged the pastries on a plate.

“God, you’re good.” Mariah roused herself to sit at the table. Below her eyes were blue circles.

“Let’s just have an easy day,” Veronica said. “We have the train to Paris tomorrow.” She thought about sharing the letters, but Mariah hadbeen so heartbroken the night before that she’d decided to let Mariah bring them up. There was plenty of time.

Veronica hesitated, then picked up one of the pastries for herself. It smelled of almonds and sugar, and she inhaled deeply before she took a bite, savoring the anticipation of it. It was even better than she’d imagined in her mind, and her taste buds exploded with happiness. “This is amazing.”

“Mmm.”

Wiping her fingers, Veronica asked, “Do you often get panic attacks?”

She shrugged. “It was the gummies. They make me paranoid.”

“Paranoid enough to make a trip in an ambulance?”

“No, not usually. But then, I’m getting used to this version of myself, aren’t I?” She twisted a rope of pastry into a circle and took a nibble from the side. “I just got kind of disoriented and—” She sighed. “It wasn’t just a panic attack. I had a monster flashback.”

Veronica took a bite to keep herself from speaking too soon. Wordless, she raised her eyebrows:Say more.

“They told me it might happen, but I’ve only had one other one, so I didn’t think I’d have to worry about it.”

“Are you talking to a therapist or counselor or anyone?” Veronica asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Dude. Who can counsel me over this shit? Seriously.”

Veronica thought of when she’d been ordered to take group therapy. It made her furious at first, but even during the first session, she found her guard coming down. “You might be surprised.”

“Maybe.” She rubbed her temple. “Can we talk about that some other time, though? I really have a fucking headache.”

“Sure.” Veronica picked up the phone and ordered tomato juice.

Mariah gave her a reluctant smile. “Thank you.”

They spent the day reading and napping, and then took the tube to the restaurant, meeting Henry there.

From the minute they walked in, Veronica was enchanted. It was unlike anywhere she’d ever been. The walls and decorations were lusciously art deco, elegant arches and mirrors and the colors of dull orange and green. They were shown to a booth with an open view of the floor and the mezzanine. “This is so cool,” Mariah said, and looked at Henry. “How come we never came here?”