Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

W hen she first woke the following morning, all was right with the world as far as Angie was concerned. But within seconds of opening her eyes, the harsh reality that had become her life came to the forefront.

Cancer.

She still couldn’t believe it. She felt removed from the idea and truth of it, as if she were on the outside of her body, looking in, a mere spectator of what was happening to her.

She went about getting ready for work, her mind sluggish and unable to keep straight what she had to do first when she got to the café. It was as if her brain was at full capacity and could not take on one more thing to think about.

Melissa had the four a.m. start that day, and Angie was glad as she’d tossed and turned for a while last night before finally falling into a deep sleep. Once dressed, she didn’t linger, and headed to work.

The café was half full when she arrived. She peered out through the window in the stainless-steel butler door that separated the kitchen from the restaurant, spotting some of her regulars along with a few unfamiliar faces. A shoebox wrapped in tissue paper stood on the counter next to an eight-by-ten framed photo of the cat. As Angie watched, a customer approached the counter, filled out a slip of paper, and shoved it into the wide slot cut into the top of the box.

Angie had a quick chat with Melissa and the rest of her staff, making sure they were all apprised of her diagnosis. Joel seemed to be at a loss for words. His bow tie was crooked, but she said nothing. Before she retreated to her office, she double-checked the glass case and did a quick walk through the floor, greeting her customers and stopping at tables to say hello.

The quiet sanctuary of her office was soon interrupted by the appearance of Edna Knickerbocker, who strode in and sat in one of the chairs before Angie could even say hello. For as long as anyone could remember, Edna had been known as “Mrs.” Knickerbocker, despite never having been married. Angie didn’t know the genesis of that and decided it was information not important enough for her to pursue.

“Angie, I heard your terrible news, and I had to come back and say something,” Edna started. She set a brown paper bag at her feet and clutched her boxy navy handbag in her lap. “Now, don’t despair. Did you know my mother had breast cancer when she was sixty-three? She had her breast lopped off”—here Angie arched an eyebrow at Edna’s stark delivery—“and the chemo made her sicker than a dog, but she lived twenty years after all that. And it wasn’t cancer that got her in the end. It was pneumonia.”

Somewhere in that revelation, Angie was sure there was a nugget of encouragement, but she’d have to sift through to find it.

“Anyway,” Edna said, “Mother did well, and that was more than fifty years ago, when they didn’t have the treatments and the advances they have today.”

“That’s true.”

“And look, if you have to have your boob removed, I think I may still have some of my mother’s mastectomy bras up in the attic.” Edna glanced at Angie’s chest. “What are you, a double-D?”

This had morphed into one bizarre conversation. Why had Edna kept her mother’s custom-made bras? “I’m a C, actually.”

Edna frowned. “Are you sure? You look bigger than a C.” She peered again at Angie. “Which side?”

“Left side.”

“Drat! Those bras won’t work for you. Mother’s right breast was the one that had cancer.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be,” Angie said smoothly.

Edna pulled something out of a brown paper bag and chuckled. “Take a look at this. It’s my neighbor Hal’s birthday today and I got him a little gift.”

Angie took the small plastic packet that housed two Q-tips. The label read Beginner Weights. She burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You’ll need a sense of humor, dear. We all do,” Edna said sagely.

Angie sighed. “That’s for sure.”

Edna stood. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, chin up. You got this.”

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Knickerbocker,” Angie said honestly, thinking it was kind of Edna to make the time to stop in.

Edna looped the short handle of her handbag over her forearm. “Ta-ta,” she said, and made her exit.

Chin up . Was that all it took to beat cancer? Angie wondered.

God, she hoped so.