Big Girl Panties by Stephanie Evanovich Page B

seemed so final now. A toothbrush that hadn’t been used in almost two years had the power to create such a void. Holly quickly left the bathroom.
    She could hear Logan down the hall. There was the metallic clanging from pieces of the bed being taken apart. There were also sporadic grunts as he tried to get stubborn screws and bolts to cooperate.
    There was only one drawer left in her bedroom to do: Bruce’s underwear drawer. It wasn’t just filled with her husband’s boxers and T-shirts. It was where he kept his most treasured possessions. At the bottom of the drawer was the Saint Christopher pendant his grandmother had given him when he made his confirmation. And the science award medal he’d won in sixth grade, when he created a tiny car that ran on water and baking soda. Maybe she would send the award to his parents and the pendant back to his grandmother; she had disconnected from them in her grief. His class ring from Brown was there. He’d insisted she keep it and not bury it with him, because it was eighteen-karat gold and would be worth something. There was his favorite pair of sunglasses, secure in their case. And there was also a picture of Holly and Bruce at a Mexican restaurant in Toronto, taken with an old Polaroid instant camera. It had been his twenty-fourth birthday, his first after she arrived in Canada. Despite his protests, Holly had alerted the restaurant staff to the occasion. They presented Bruce with their celebratory gigantic sombrero and, with Holly’s full support, forced him to wear it. She remembered Bruce fretting that it could give him lice, but he put it on anyway. With Holly’s head easily fitting under the brim as well, the waiter snapped the picture and gave it to them. Holly had no idea Bruce had kept it. He even had a hint of a smile, and he rarely smiled in pictures. She wasn’t aware how long she touched and inspected each artifact. Time once again had no relevance. She finally took them all and stuck them in her jewelry box. With shaking hands and a heavy heart, she emptied the contents of Bruce’s final drawer. And then she went to her own closet and retrieved Bruce’s green flannel shirt. She placed it in the box. If she was to have any hope of making it through this night, it would have to go. If for no other reason than she wasn’t willing to go through this hurt ever again. She had all the mementos she needed.
    Logan was nearly finished dismantling the bed when she passed the room he was working in. She stopped. Suddenly she wanted to be in there. She wanted to be near the person who had taken on her wretched task as his own, and in the middle of the night no less. Setting the box down, Holly took a seat on the floor, leaning her back up against the wall. The pieces he had already taken apart were neatly stacked against the wall near the door, as was the mattress. All the hardware used to connect the bed was safely in the Ziploc bag.
    â€œYou look pale,” Logan told her.
    â€œYou look like this bed is giving you a run for your money.” She tried to sound lighthearted.
    â€œI have yet to meet the bolt I couldn’t persuade to turn,” he said. “You all done?”
    â€œI am.” Holly looked at the box beside her. “I don’t know what to do with this stuff. It feels wrong to just throw it away. Do people want someone’s old underwear and electric razor and toothbrush?”
    Logan took a moment before answering. “I don’t think the toothbrush will be of any use to anyone, but poor people need underwear and razors, too. As long as it’s not full of holes and it’s clean, I’ll bet you can donate it. Not to mention, when charities have to do this unpleasant task, I’m almost positive they take everything and respectfully dispose of what they can’t use. I think you should do whatever feels right.”
    â€œThanks, Logan.” She smiled at him. He always seemed to