Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing by KATHY CANO-MURILLO Page A

disbelief crept way up her skin, and before she knew it, they invaded her every cell. “You’re really leaving?”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll send you money,” he said as he ran his hands through his short black hair. “I put the debit and credit cards on your dresser.”
    “How am I supposed to run everything while you’re in Palm Springs?”
    “The same way I did while you worked,” he said curtly. “All I want is for you to get to know your kids, and for you to know who you are as a parent.”
    Mary Theresa swallowed her pride. She closed her eyes and tried to rationalize what had just happened. He couldn’t walk out. This was the most unreasonable time.
    “Hadley, I was demoted at work today to part-time telecommuting. You can’t do this to me now. It’s too much for me to handle.”
    He placed a hand on each of her forearms. “You are a strong, intelligent woman. You’ll be fine. You may even discover qualities you never knew existed.”
    She flicked his hands off, offended. “What do I tell our families? My boss? The neighbors? Oh my God—the kids?”
    “I’m sure you’ll make a plan, Mary Theresa. You always do.” He left the room and walked to the stairs, where three packed suitcases waited for him. Mary Theresa put her hand over the handles of the largest one.
    “Don’t you at least want the John Coltrane album? I went through a lot to get it for you. To make up for the one I broke.”
    “Keep it as a gift to yourself,” he said. “I have it on CD.”

6
     

     
    T o Arizona people, the winter chill consisted of anything sixty-five degrees or lower. But to Joseph and Rosa, lifelong East Coast natives, it may as well have been spring. She watched as the old man grunted in frustration, sitting in front of the dashboard, searching the door panels for the button to lower the car window. He finally put the dang-blasted thing in park to inspect every crevice of the car’s interior.
    “What the heck kind of vehicle is this?” he grumbled. “How are the windows supposed to go down? I can’t breathe.”
    Rosa giggled and let go of the purse straps that she clutched in her lap. She stretched up and pressed the switch that was an inch from Joseph’s nose.
    “It’s called a PT Cruiser,” she explained. “Isn’t it so cute and sporty? It’s like a little toy! Que bueno!”
    Joseph slid back in his seat and gripped the steering wheel. “With all due respect, Ro, I don’t understand this one. You know I’d go to the four corners of the earth for you, but there are numerable loose ends to tie up, before… you know… and we just arrived. We haven’t even settled in, found a grocery store, or a pharmacy. Dr. Mercado called. We need to set up your treatments immediately. He’s furious. You’ve had somecrazy plans in your day, but this tops all of them. I’m worried this time. Really worried.”
    Rosa raised her hand to cup his cheek. “I told you before, doll, you didn’t have to come, I planned to do this on my own. I hate to cause you distress, especially with that stubborn blood pressure of yours. But I love you for being here, I appreciate every ounce of attention. I’m unworthy. I hope you know of my undying gratitude. All I ask is that you have faith in me.”
    Joseph stroked her hand, knowing it would, indeed, be the last of a string of memorable world-traveling adventures. He proceeded, like always, and pulled out of the driveway to escort his longtime friend to her destination. One of the last items on her wish list.
    They drove for twenty-five minutes down the diagonal stretch of Grand Avenue through Phoenix’s arts district. Rosa didn’t speak the entire ride. Instead she stared out the side window to capture the scenery with her eyes. If Rosa had been even five years younger, she would have stopped to visit each of the galleries, art houses, and diners they passed. When they reached downtown Glendale, she covered her mouth in delight. It appeared just as quaint and cozy as