Bad Heiress Day by Allie Pleiter Page A

stand in the way of this family’s options?”
    Well, that was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? Trouble is, it wasn’t just Dad’s goofy idea. Darcy had a relentlessly goofy idea of her own. One she wasn’t sure her husband, Mr. Sensibility, would ever understand. She barely understood it herself.
    The confusion must have been obvious, for Jack just sighed. He turned to lean his back against the closet door, letting his head fall back as well. “You’re still grieving. You’ve been through a huge trauma. You’re exhausted.Can you just consider the possibility that I may be able to see this more clearly than you can right now?”
    He was right. There were barrelfuls of emotions tangled up in this. She knew he saw it all in the pure science of facts and figures. He had it all covered, caged up inside sharp edges of prudent finance. No one in their right mind would argue with his thinking.
    So why was she so angry?

Chapter 8
Loose Ends on the Loose
    D arcy turned the page on her kitchen calendar slowly, almost with ceremony. October. It was a new month. It felt somehow important, and then again not at all. Time was marching on, and that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
    The first of the month had seemed like a good day to make the appointment when she’d scheduled it. A day to close out some things and start up others. Now, staring at the notation of “8:30 a.m.—Meredith” on that first square, it felt entirely too soon. Her dad had been gone a few weeks. Since his last day, Darcy had not set foot inside the hospice center. She didn’t want to return now. The sights, the smells, the sounds, the faces all felt like they’d wash up over her, drag her out to sea in a tidal surge of emotion.
    Who could blame her? Who wanted the memories of such a place? She hadn’t really thought of it as bad when she was there—just the opposite, as a matter of fact. It was an entire institution fighting against the tide—forcing comfort into discomfort, making peace from terror, insisting on dignity in the face of so many indignities. Now, though, it loomed in the shadow of memory. Dark and awful in all its peach-colored softness.
    Darcy had tried to avoid returning to the hospice, but the papers had to be signed, and a few overlooked personal items needed to be collected. She’d asked Meredith if they couldn’t meet at Darcy’s house. Meredith had declined. Darcy had then offered to buy Meredith lunch at one of her favorite restaurants. Meredith wasn’t placated. “I’ll take you up on lunch at The Palace over the holidays,” she had said, “but you and I both know you need to come here for this.”
    She didn’t want to go.
    She had to go.
    If only for the slim chance that it wasn’t as bad as she remembered it. At first, Darcy took Jack up on his offer to come with her. He’d even offered to go for her. Darcy knew, though, somewhere in the back of her mind, that sending someone else—even bringing someone else—wouldn’t make this go away.
    She pulled on her jacket with hollow-feeling hands. Hands that slipped instinctively into her coat pockets for the car keys—and found the worn smoothness of her father’s key chain. She’d linked it to hers. A memento, a sliver of life’s ordinary trappings, a piece of her father’s day-to-day existence. I miss you heaved out of her chest with her breath. Are you happy now? Is heaven wonderful?
    Is heaven there?
     
    “Are you okay so far?” Meredith Sorensen had a voice like a soft blanket. It wrapped around Darcy and made her feel better, even when Meredith was delivering the worst of news. The woman was an extraordinary soul, perfectly suited for her job as director of the hospice center. She wastiny, a little plush-toy dynamo of a woman; passionate about her work and the people it touched. Darcy had often wondered how Meredith could be surrounded by death and still be so full of life.
    “Sort of,” she replied. “This paperwork is incredible. I don’t know