23 Third Week of February, 2017 (1/2)
London
Eight days before Gemma left for the youth hostel, she called Chance's cell from the London flat. Her hands were shaking. She sat on the kitchen counter next to the bread box and let her feet dangle. It was very early in the morning. She wanted to get this call over with.
”Hey, Gemma,” he said. ”Is Willow back?”
”No, she's not.”
”Oh.” There was a pause. ”Then why are you calling me?” The disdain in Chance's voice was palpable.
”I have some bad news,” Gemma said. ”I'm sorry.”
”What is it?”
”Where are you?”
”In the newsagent's. Which is apparently what they call newsstands over here.”
”You should step outside.”
”All right.” Gemma waited while he walked. ”What is it?” Chance asked.
”I found a note, in the flat. From Willow.”
”What kind of note?”
”It was in the bread box. I'm going to read it.” Gemma held the note in her fingers. There were the tall, loopy letters of Will's signature, her typical phrases, and her favorite words.