Give Me a Day

by Zoe Ann Wood

  The service was short and kind. Father Peter spoke of life, more than death, and of new opportunities. Then the attendants placed the urn in the tomb’s little compartment, fitting the marble plaque over it. The priest shook her hand, the attendants gave her short, respectful bows, and they walked away, leaving her alone with her grandma and the rest of the Hirsch family that had come before her.

  Lori wiped her tears, letting out a shuddering breath, and told herself it was time to go. She needed to stop at her hotel to get her suitcase, but she wouldn’t be sightseeing today. The weather was too miserable for that. She would take the train to the airport, check in her suitcase, then pick up a paperback romance from a newsstand and sit in a coffee shop for a couple of hours. She desperately needed a kick of positive thinking.

  That was when she felt a prickle on the back of her head. She twisted around, searching the graves and the footpaths behind her. A man stood a distance away, holding a large black umbrella and a bouquet of flowers.

  It was Sebastian. He’d come—he’d remembered and come to… What? To break her heart again?

  Lori turned her back on him, unable to watch him get closer. The crunch of gravel announced his arrival, and then he stopped beside her, leaning down to deposit a beautiful bouquet of black calla lilies next to the Klugs’ wreath.

  Lori’s skin was electrified. Glancing down at her hands, she was surprised at the lack of sparks dancing between them. A tide was rising inside her—an outburst of anger and hurt so deep, she couldn’t form any words.

  She wanted to believe that he’d come to apologize. That he’d come to show her support in this difficult moment. But he hadn’t even asked her if she wanted him there; he just assumed, which was apparently what he did best.

  To her humiliation, her anger manifested as tears today, not scathing words. Unwilling to cry in front him again, she kissed her fingers and pressed them to the tombstone.

  Goodbye, Grandma. I’ll be back one day, I promise. When it doesn’t hurt so much anymore, okay?

  Then she turned away from him and ran into the rain.

  “Lorelei!” he called after her, just once. But she didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

  And he didn’t come after her.

  Fifteen

  Sebastian

  He walked back to the hotel, even though it took him three hours to get there and he was completely soaked by the time he arrived. He’d meandered through the streets of Vienna, stopping at the infamous coffee shop he’d visited with Lorelei. He bought some cake for his mother and sister, and—if he was being honest—for himself. Every bite of it would remind him of Lorelei, a bittersweet nugget of memory.

  The sight of the table where he and Lorelei had shared their first breakfast together stabbed him right in the heart, and he cursed himself again because he’d messed up. Badly. And he had no idea how he would even begin to repair the damage he’d caused.

  As he sloshed through the lobby, leaving wet footprints like some mythical river monster, a receptionist called after him. “Mr. Lynch? We have a package for you.”

  Sebastian turned to the desk, extending his hand.

  “Oh, well, two packages, really,” the clerk said, looking down. He handed over a big envelope and a small parcel.

  Leaving the envelope on the counter—he knew it was Klug’s contract by the return address—he pried open the parcel that was wrapped in paper and Scotch tape.

  Lorelei’s new phone tumbled out, smacking onto the wood. It was still wrapped in the polka dot case she’d picked on their first day together. Sebastian flipped it over. A sticky note covered the screen.

  I thought I should return this to you. It’s unlocked. The last picture I sent was the one that’s opened in the app.

  There was no signature, no goodbye—and no indication that she would be ready to talk to him anytime soon.

  Sebastian glanced at the clerk. “When did this arrive?”

  The receptionist jerked his head up at his harsh voice. “Erm, the lady left it here not ten minutes ago.”

  Sebastian glanced out the front doors—but of course Lorelei was nowhere to be seen. “I must have just missed her,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry, what was that, sir?” the clerk asked politely.

  Sebastian shook his head and picked up the envelope. “Have my car ready in half an hour.”

  Only when he was in the privacy of his own room did he swipe over the screen and open the photo app. The photo was the one they’d taken in front of the Prater wheel ticket booth. They were both smiling at the camera, Lorelei tucked under his arm.

  Sebastian clicked back to the gallery and looked at photo after photo, documenting their two days together. With every one he saw, his chest constricted more. There were several blurry ones, sure, but the majority showed him Vienna—and himself—through Lorelei’s eyes.

  There were photos of the flower boxes lining the street. A horse carriage carrying a family with three grinning, dark-skinned children waving madly at all passersby. A flock of pigeons pecking at a whole strawberry-glazed donut.

  And then there were photos of him. Some were the selfies they’d taken, there were a couple of shots where she’d insisted he should pose for her, but there were several candid photos she’d taken when he wasn’t watching. He looked happy in those photos. For once, he wasn’t frowning, and even in the candid shots, his grin was always in place. She’d brought this carefree, relaxed man out of him, and he’d pushed her away over a stupid will.

  Sebastian scrolled through the last of the photos—the stunning portrait of her that he’d taken the night they attended the ballet performance, and multiple shots of chocolate. Lorelei loved chocolate. She appreciated the small pleasures in life and had forced him to see them, too, to notice that life wasn’t just big business and colossal trouble, but a series of short moments that could bring incredible joy.

  He had to find her. Needed to apologize, to explain why he’d invaded her privacy and promise that he would never, ever repeat that mistake if only she’d give him another chance.

  An hour and a half later, he was standing at the security checkpoint of the Vienna International Airport, arguing with the security guard.

  “Sir, you can only get through this point with a valid boarding pass,” the guard explained for the second time. “If you don’t have one, please leave the line. Other passengers would like to move forward.”

  Sebastian glanced behind him. A long line of travelers snaked out, some of whom were frowning at him in displeasure.

  “Fine,” he growled, stalking toward the ticket counter.

  The woman behind the computer smiled politely. “Guten Tag, what can I do for you today?”

  “I need a ticket for the flight that leaves for New York City later this afternoon,” Sebastian said quickly.

  His flight wasn’t until tomorrow, but right then, he would have flown economy if that was what it took.

  The attendant typed something into her computer and cocked her head to the side. “I’m afraid that flight is full, sir. The soonest I can get you to New York City is”—she typed something more and added—“either a direct flight tomorrow morning or…you could take the next flight to Zurich in one hour and transfer to the eleven-thirty flight to LaGuardia.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No, it has to be this one.”

  She lifted her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “There is nothing I can do. All passengers have already checked in, and boarding is in progress. The flight leaves in thirty-five minutes.”

  Sebastian swallowed a curse and glanced over at the security line. It seemed to have tripled in length since he’d left it, snaking back and forth through the large hall.

  “Can you get me on any other flight leaving today so I can get through security?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously and glanced over at where a guard stood at attention just yards away from the ticket counter.

 
“No, no, it’s not what you think,” Sebastian hurried to say. “Look, a woman is boarding that plane, and I have to find her.” He leaned on the counter. “I have to. I said some things, and now she won’t talk to me…”

  The woman’s welcoming smile was replaced by a cold glower. “Then perhaps it is just as well that you won’t be able to catch her. She probably doesn’t want to be stuck on a plane with you for the next seven hours.”

  She fixed her gaze on the screen and started typing, as though he’d ceased to exist.

  “I’ll pay you five hundred euro to—”

  “Sir.” She fixed him with a glare. “If you don’t step away from the counter, I will call security to escort you out. Or to arrest you for trying to bribe your way into the terminal. Now please, leave.”

  Sebastian’s face burned with shame. He turned away, walking toward the exit. What had he been thinking, trying to offer her money? But the thought of Lorelei boarding that plane and leaving the continent before he had a chance to speak to her burned his insides like acid.

  But there was nothing more he could do today. She was gone, and unless he figured out teleportation in five minutes, the next time he spoke to her would be on American soil. If she agreed to speak to him, that was. He couldn’t even text her to apologize because she’d left her phone with him.

  So he left the terminal and hurried out to where his driver was still waiting in the Tesla.

  “Take me to the hotel,” he said. He needed to plan his apology, and plan it well.

  Sixteen

  Lori

  She arrived home on Saturday to a humid, overcast day. The cab deposited her at the end of her street, and she rolled her suitcase past her neighbors’ houses, walking the same path she’d walked every day since she was six. Whether it was to go to school, the park, or work, she’d trudged past those same old houses, greeted the same people. There weren’t many young families in the area, since her grandma was one of the first of her generation to pass away. But Mrs. Robbins would be going into a care facility, and her niece would be moving in with her son and daughter.

  Lori would remain here, too, though she wouldn’t have a family anytime soon. The thought brought tears to her eyes, but she berated herself sternly not to cry. She’d had hours to think about everything that had happened in Vienna, and she’d come to the decision that she would emerge from the experience stronger, not broken.

  It was a summer romance. A blip in my life. There are better things waiting in my future.

  Maybe she would start believing herself someday if she repeated it enough.

  Lori heaved the heavy suitcase up the porch steps and huffed out a breath. The house hadn’t burned down while she’d been gone, and the porch hadn’t sagged under the weight of her luggage, so that was something. She needed to count the small mercies in her life and move on, just like she always had.

  The lock on the front door stuck for a moment, but she pulled the knob in and gave it a good tug, and it clicked open. Then she stepped inside, almost calling out to her grandma in greeting before she stopped herself. It would take her a while to get used to living on her own. Prior to her trip to Vienna, there were so many errands to run after her grandma’s death, so many arrangements to make, she didn’t have time to feel lonely. She wondered if Hannah might come live with her—a rent-free arrangement might benefit both of them.

  The house still smelled the same, of cinnamon and sugar, even though her grandma hadn’t baked anything for almost a year. She’d been too frail, mentally and physically, to do much but rest and read, and even the latter had gotten too difficult for her as her illness had progressed.

  Lori sighed, chasing away the memories. Though she wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed and sleep for sixteen hours, she knew she’d regret giving in to her jet lag too soon. So she unpacked her suitcase, storing the toiletries in the bathroom, then taking the dirty laundry to the basement.

  Carrying an armful of clothes down the darkened stairs, she shrieked when her foot splashed into the water at the bottom.

  Jumping back, she accidentally dropped the clothes, and hit her elbow on the banister. Her first impulse was to switch on the lights, but she remembered at the last moment that it might not be a good idea if the basement was flooded. Scurrying up the stairs and into the kitchen, she dug an old flashlight from the drawer and returned to the basement.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned at the sight of the damage.

  A pipe must have burst somewhere, because the entire basement floor was covered with an inch of water. Or Philadelphia had had a massive storm and water had leaked in through one of the basement windows. Lori wasn’t sure which one was worse.

  She called the plumber from her grandma’s landline—thankfully, she’d been too busy to have it disconnected before she’d left for Vienna. The man arrived two hours later, wearing rubber boots, overalls, and a big smile, as though fixing broken pipes was the highlight of his day. Which it likely was, given what he did for a living. Lori wished she could say that her own job inspired the same level of happiness in her, but she’d be lying if she did. Sorting out her job situation would have to join the numerous tasks on her to-do list.

  “I fixed the pipe for you,” the plumber announced after spending half an hour tinkering and clanging in the basement. He set down his toolbox and wiped his hands on his overalls. “Now, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

  Lori winced. “The good, please.” Maybe if the good news was really good, hearing the bad news wouldn’t hit her so hard.

  “I shut off the pipe and unclogged your drain so the basement should be water-free by tomorrow. You should open the windows and doors to really dry it out, though. You don’t want any mold growth to start down there.” He scratched his head. “Maybe think about getting a dehumidifier. There’s some cheap ones at Home Depot.”

  “Okay.” Lori nodded, adding tasks to her mental list. “That’s good, right? This means things will go back to normal?”

  The plumber grimaced. “I don’t know about that, ma’am. The pipe I’ve had to shut off is old. Decades old. You won’t be able to use your laundry room until you get it replaced.”

  “Ah.” Lori chewed the inside of her cheek. There was a laundromat a couple of blocks away that she could use. “How long will it take you to replace it?”

  “That’s the bad news,” he replied. “I don’t think it’s worth replacing just the one. Your system is a disaster waiting to happen. I’m surprised this is the first burst pipe you’ve seen. This house is old, ma’am, and it doesn’t look like the pipes have been changed since it was built.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Lori knew her grandparents had moved in here in nineteen-seventy-six, but the house hadn’t been new by any standard when they had. If she waited a decade or two, it would likely qualify as a historical building if it weren’t so painfully average.

  She swallowed thickly, trying to stamp down on her tension. “Can you give me a rough estimate of how much that would cost?”

  He blew out a breath and glanced down at the basement. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d be guessing upward of four grand. Five, if you want to be safe with your budgeting. And you’d need to do it soon.”

  Lori thanked him and wrote him a check for the work he’d already completed. Then she closed the door behind him and leaned heavily on it. Five thousand dollars. She didn’t have that kind of money. The truth was, she didn’t have this house either. This was the thought that had troubled her for the past day, adding to her already poor mood.

  She hadn’t completed her grandmother’s checklist. And she wouldn’t. She would not send in the photo from the opera—and not because she’d left her phone in Sebastian’s hotel. Her photos had been saved to her cloud, but she couldn’t bring herself to use it. Nor did she take a photo of herself riding the old street tram. After she’d met Sebastian, finishing those tasks had lost its priority, and she couldn’t even blame him for it. She’d decided somewhere along the way
that jumping through her grandma’s hoops wasn’t something she wanted to do.

  It rankled, of course, that she would be losing the house to some unknown relative who never took an interest in her grandma’s life. But as she walked through the rooms, assessing every detail with a critical eye, she realized the house was in need of serious repairs.

  Apart from the plumbing, there were the windows, which would need to be replaced, preferably before the next winter to bring down the heating costs. The old oil furnace in the basement could also be replaced for a more ecological and energy-efficient option. Both bathrooms were currently a testament to her grandmother’s love of floral patterns and would need to be completely renovated. The list went on and on, the tally rising with each room Lori visited.

  She would need the entire forty thousand dollars her grandma had left in her will if she wanted to continue living here. Lori’s breath caught in her throat. The math didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense to invest that much—regardless of the fact that the house might not be hers anymore.

  She thought of gathering her laundry and taking it to the laundromat, but the idea of leaving the house again left her exhausted. She called her grandma’s lawyer, announcing that she’d be stopping by her office on Monday. It would be a short and painful conversation, and she wasn’t looking forward to it one bit. Then she did what she’d been dying to do since she’d crossed the threshold: crawled into bed and fell asleep.

  On Monday morning, she arrived at work right on time, though she’d barely dragged herself from bed. Her sleep schedule was still wonky, and she’d fallen asleep, crying, at three a.m. that morning. She’d found the clutch and heels from the gala in her suitcase and proceeded to completely lose it, as Hannah would say.