My friend smiled back at me and then said, “There’s got to be another way. You can’t just leave forever.”

“It’s not forever. It’s just until Ford and Cricket wake up and figure out what they want to do … and what they can do. Ford’s pretty easygoing, at least he was when he was alive, but I expect some truculence from Cricket. She liked the high life, and society’s not too keen on zombie socialites.”

“She should be grateful to be alive. Where are they anyway?”

“In the truckasaurus. I got a locked cover for the bed and put them there with a note, some magazines, and bottled water and fruit in case they wake up early.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mercedes repeated.

“It won’t be bad. I need to finish this fauxoir, and if Don Pedro gets another book deal, he’ll want to hire me again. I’ve got several Tolstoy books, and I imagine Ford and Cricket will take up a lot of my time.”

“I’ll visit when I can.”

“You better.” I looked at my friend and said, “You know that to me you are everything that is good, don’t you? You are honest, and brave, and brilliant, and you bring beauty and music into this world, and I love you. I wish I could have given you half of what you’ve given me.”

“What are you talking about?” she said. “You introduced me to Pepper and the Grants. If not for you, I wouldn’t have the sandwich shop, or half the bands that I’ve signed, or all the crazy energy you give me, or my business partner.”

“Ian. You can say his name.” I hugged Mercedes and tried not to be sad, but then she began crying and I couldn’t stop myself.

“You’ll need a place to stay when you come back. You can stay with me and Rosemary.”

I laughed and said, “I know. Your casa has always been my casa.”

We hugged several times before Mercedes actually left. The loft seemed as sad and empty as it had the first time Oswald had shown it to me, a thing stuck in the past.

I had the small pile of items I hadn’t already packed in the truck: the sports bag, my chic green zebra-print suitcase, the Tolstoy novels, books about desert horticulture, and my backpack.

I crawled into a sleeping bag on the floor and tried to think positively about the future. It wasn’t what I had planned, but it could be fabulous if I just made up my mind to be happy.

When I awoke, it was dark and I knew someone was watching me. I turned my head and saw Ian sitting on the zebra-print suitcase.