Look Again

He doesn’t argue. Just asks, “What is Miss Candace Holland doing with her life?”

“Who knows?” I say, spearing a slice of cucumber. I want to say who cares, but Hank knows that I care.

Hank pulls out his phone and thumbs in a few things. “Oh.”

“What?”

Hank clears his throat but does not take his eyes from his phone screen. “Nothing.”

“Apparently something,” I say.

He shakes his head.

I reach out my hand for his phone. He backs up against the opposite bench.

“What?”

“She looks a bit like a young Audrey Hepburn, yes?”

I nod. “Yeah. There’s a picture? Let me see.”

Hank holds the phone against his chest. “Like tearing off a bandage, isn’t that the way?”

“The way of what?”

Hank sucks in a breath of air, closes his eyes, and says, “Looks like she’s engaged. Wall Street type. His mother is a Vanderbilt.” He passes the phone across the table.

When I let my head hit the table in front of me, I kind of enjoy the pain.