Most Wonderful

by Bryce Oakley

  "Did you know the breakfast burrito cart usually parks just down the street?" Frankie said, tossing a chip into the air and catching it in her mouth. "You know, just in case you needed different breakfast options."

  Emilia rolled her eyes. "I've been making smoothies, don't worry your pretty little head."

  "Smoothies," Frankie said, drawing out the word and looking as though she was deep in thought. "Sounds... filling."

  Emilia grinned. ”They can be. I put kale and banana and--"

  "Wow, those sound nearly as boring as your bakery order," Frankie said, rolling her eyes and chomping into her sandwich. Then, as if realizing what she had said, she moved her eyes to Emilia, her jaws still locked on a bite.

  "You can relax. I'm not going to explode at the mere mention of the bakery," Emilia said with a laugh. She turned to the counter. "Why don't you join us instead of standing at a counter to eat?"

  Frankie nodded sagely, glancing to Nico, who had the online order tablet in her hand, working as she ate.

  “Anything good in there?” Frankie asked, raising a brow.

  Nico made a small squeak and Emilia glanced up, afraid she was choking. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the tablet.

  "Did you see the auction results?" Nico said slowly, as though she wasn't sure she should even tell them.

  Emilia shook her head. In her haze, she had forgotten all about the auction yesterday. The presentation books that she had found with Cody at the estate sale were for sale. She hadn't wanted to think about those books since they had broken up. She mentally scolded herself for getting so distracted she had forgotten about a major part of her job.

  "Apparently the auction house sold them as a set upon request," Nico said, scrolling down the page with a chip in her hand.

  "What'd you buy them for?" Frankie asked.

  “$145," Emilia said, staring nervously at Nico. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she was growing more anxious by the moment. "I thought we'd make about $8k with them, though."

  "What'd they sell for, Nick?" Frankie asked, looking from Emilia to Nico.

  "A little more than $8k," Nico said, turning the tablet to show us.

  The number on the screen was much too large.

  Emilia stared at it, blinking in disbelief.

  "Three hundred thousand?" Frankie whispered, gasping.

  "How did that happen?" Nico exclaimed, gesturing to the tablet in front of her.

  Frankie shot out of her seat and ran around to stand behind Nico.

  Emilia was in shock. No wonder William Godfrey had hidden them. She obviously hadn't done enough homework when giving them to the auction house. She had almost never seen a presentation book sell for so much.

  "Who was the buyer?" I asked, her heart pounding.

  "Some collector in Jersey. Googling her now," Nico said.

  Ten minutes later, they had found a random woman who collected Dickens. It was no one any of them personally knew.

  Part of Emilia wanted to call Cody and tell her what had happened. She wanted to jump around and scream from the rooftops, and she wanted Cody to be there.

  Her stomach dropped, knowing Cody wouldn't.

  Emilia looked out the window and noticed a light dusting on the ground.

  "You know what? Let’s get out of here. Frankie, go grab the car. We're going to celebrate," Emilia said, grinning as the other two women erupted in cheers.

  “I don't know what’s open, but even if we’re just getting drunk at my place with Austen, I’m all for it,” Frankie said.

  Chapter 18

  Cody

  Cody sighed, feeling like a massive weight had left her shoulders.

  She had just told Henry that she wasn't going to take over the shop.

  She didn't want to own the bakery and feel that kind of responsibility for its success. She wasn't an entrepreneur or particularly business-driven, and that was okay.

  Henry had taken it well, all things considered. He said he expected as much, but would have felt guilty if he hadn't offered.

  What was it with guilt in the Novak family?

  Cody walked down the street towards the bakery, coffee in hand. It had just begun to snow, and the streets were quiet. Most people were home with their families on Christmas Eve, she considered.

  She turned to cross the road, looking down at her watch. It was only around midday, so her plan was to stop by the bakery and grab a few things, then head home to welcome in the holiday by herself. Henry had invited her over, but she’d save that for Christmas Day itself.

  She wanted to tell Emilia the news, but she wasn’t sure the bookshop would still be open. She took her time walking, treading carefully in the dusting of snow.

  Tires squealed, and she looked up to see a car barreling down the street. She leapt back onto the sidewalk, shaking her head.

  There was always one maniac driver in LoDo at all times, but cars could only go about two blocks in any direction without hitting a stoplight, so what was the point of trying to hit sixty between every light?

  Before she could even finish that thought, she heard the tires squeal again, but with the sickening metallic crunch of a car accident. She knew the sound well, but she knew the aftermath better.

  She started running in the direction the car had gone, following the fading tire tracks to find which way it had turned. She dropped her coffee in the trash bin and sprinted down the street, sliding around the corner of the block with the bakery and bookshop.

  The car had collided with a parked car in front of the bookshop. What an idiot. She ran down the block as one or two bystanders came out of nearby shops. "Call 911," she shouted to the nearest person and jogged to the car with the asshole driver inside.

  The car was crunched, the metal gouged out where it had collided with the other vehicle. Half of the front bumper was on the ground and all of the airbags had popped open.

  How fast had this idiot been going when he had slid? Didn't he know how slippery a dusting of snow could be?

  "I'm an off-duty paramedic, are you okay, sir?" The paramedic thing was a bit of a stretch after she had taken that extended leave of absence a few weeks before, but it was better to err on the side of Easily Explainable to those in distress.

  The man was woozy and shaken, but he nodded. He had a scrape on his chin from the airbag and otherwise seemed a pretty low priority.

  She stifled the urge to start yelling at the man for being so stupid and instead, reached to take his pulse. She didn't have any other instruments with her, and a pulse count was a good measurement for shock. While counting the beats while staring at her watch, she heard someone on the street yell out, "There's someone in the parked car!"

  She straightened, looking over at the parked car. Sure enough, a dark-haired female was leaning against the steering wheel airbag. High priority, something in the back of her mind screamed.

  She knew that SUV.

  Emilia.

  No.

  Please don't let it be Emilia, please don't let it be Emilia.

  "Sir, stay right where you are. An ambulance is on its way," Cody instructed the man, falling right back into familiar habits. It was as natural as breathing.

  Her hands shook as she rounded the crushed car to get to the parked car. She examined the SUV closer. It seemed to be a slightly different color from Emilia’s car, from what she could remember. Emilia’s was black, but this was gray… Or was Emilia’s gray?

  The person in the car didn’t have Emilia’s hair, but it was certainly familiar.

  She took note of her surroundings, trying to make calm decisions instead of leaping onto something.

  The driver had sideswiped it pretty hard. It looked like the entire back of the driver’s side was busted. He must have been going 40 or 50 miles per hour to cause so much damage.

  It didn't seem fair for the driver to be relatively fine, and this poor woman in the parked car to be hurt, but years of being a paramedic had taught her two things: life wasn't fair
, and it certainly doesn't make sense.

  Cody wrenched open the door. "Ma'am? Can you hear me?" She asked to no response.

  Cody carefully checked for a pulse on the woman's wrist, not moving her much in case of a spinal injury. The victim would need a spinal board, and she didn't want her curiosity to be the reason the poor woman became paralyzed.

  The pulse was still strong, a good sign. She was alive, but most likely had suffered a concussion. Cody gently moved her hair out of her face to get a look at her pupils.

  Her eyes were closed, but as soon as Cody shifted her hair, her stomach plummeted.

  It was Frankie.

  She nearly jerked back but forced herself to stay still. Her hands shook, and she leaned a hand against the car to steady herself. The second she recognized Frankie, it was as though years of medical training eluded her.

  It was like after Katie all over again.

  "It's okay, Frankie. You're going to be okay," Cody repeated, pushing her panic to the back of her mind.

  She had to. She had no choice.

  She reached forward again to look at Frankie’s pupils.

  The distant sound of sirens blared, and then came closer. Cody recognized an ambulance siren, a firetruck, and two police cars. Those sirens used to be as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.

  She still carried a penlight in her jacket pocket — old habits really did die hard — and her pupils responded much slower than Cody wanted them to. Definitely concussion. Without moving Frankie, she checked as much as she could, but besides a small cut on her forehead, she didn't notice anything.

  It felt strange to be asked to step out of the way by the first responders that had just arrived on the scene. Cody relayed what information she could, including her current medical condition as far as she could tell and her name. It felt unnervingly like the hospital handoffs she had done so many times, except this one was personal, instead of the strange detachment it typically came with.

  Her hands were shaking.

  It was so much like Katie's accident.

  It was too much.

  "Frankie?!" Came a panicked cry on the other side of her, and Cody turned to find Emilia standing beside the car, her face white as a sheet. She moved to reach towards Frankie, but Cody grabbed her, holding her back.

  She had to be strong for Emilia. She could break down privately later, but for now, she had to be strong.

  "Frankie," Emilia cried, trying to pull out of Cody’s grasp, as if she didn't even bother seeing who was holding her.

  "Let them do their work," Cody said, steering Emilia back to the sidewalk and keeping a tight hold on her.

  "Is she dead?" Emilia asked in a small voice, looking up at Cody.

  Her heart clenched at the idea of Emilia being scared, of Emilia not being the strong one for once. Cody couldn't even imagine the fear she must be feeling.

  No one was as important to Emilia as Frankie.

  "No, she's not dead," Cody assured her quickly, shaking her head for emphasis, holding back a million snap judgments about the situation. "Her pulse was strong, which is a good sign, and she was breathing. She's probably just had a concussion. That asshole was driving like a maniac." She pointed to the other car where the maniac in question was receiving treatment. She couldn't wait for the police officer standing behind the EMTs to be able to take over.

  "I asked her to get the car. She was waiting for me. We were going to go celebrate. She was waiting for me," Emilia stammered, her eyes filling with tears.

  "It's not your fault," Cody said, holding Emilia to her chest as she began to cry. "Take a deep breath." Her hyperventilating wouldn't help anything.

  What Cody wasn't telling Emilia was that brain injuries were a strange thing, and not every situation was what it seemed.

  Katie, for example.

  But what good would telling her do?

  Nothing.

  So, she kept her mouth shut. She would be strong for the both of them.

  "What hospital are you taking her to?" Cody called out to the first responders as they bound Frankie onto a spinal board and carried her over to the ambulance, where she was put on the gurney and loaded into the back of the ambulance.

  "It's my sister," Emilia cried out when it didn't appear they would answer. Of course, they couldn't give that answer to just some random person on the side of the road, but a sister — however true that statement technically was — was different.

  "St Joseph's," one called back. "She's critical, so we can't have you riding with us. Do you have a ride, ma'am?"

  "Yes," Cody responded. She looked down at Emilia, taking her hand. "Come on, we'll meet her there."

  She looked down at their hands, then back up at Cody. "Are you sure?"

  Cody’s eyes widened, wondering how she could even ask a question like that. "Of course, I'm sure. Now stop being weird and let's go take care of Frankie."

  Chapter 19

  Emilia

  Emilia leaned her head back on the hospital room sofa, closing her eyes for the first time in hours.

  Cody had made phone calls on the way to the hospital, first to Henry to let him know the situation, then next to Nico to have her spearhead the issue of Frankie's car and to make sure Austen would be taken care of for the night.

  Cody had been so competent about it all, so calm and collected during all of the calls.

  She, on the other hand, had been a sobbing mess.

  Frankie had regained consciousness in the ambulance, and by the time they had her all set up in the emergency room, she was already trying to convince one of the nurses that she didn't need a neck collar and was asking if her dog could come to visit her.

  Emilia was surprised to see both questions considered for nearly half-a-second longer than they might have been for anyone else.

  That girl was trouble.

  Frankie was wheeled off for test after test, and Cody sat by Emilia’s side, explaining what each acronym meant and what the tests were determining. She held Cody’s hand and tried not to question why such a simple touch could be so comforting.

  Frankie was admitted overnight to keep an eye on possible bleeding, and so Emilia had settled in.

  Frankie was out, high as a kite on a very generous morphine drip.

  She looked so small in her hospital gown and the giant bed with tubes sticking out of her arm. The noises of the machines had been silenced, and the slight hissing of her nasal cannula was one of the only noises in the room.

  Emilia held her phone in her hands, staring down at her parent's phone numbers. Neither had answered. She had left messages on both of their voicemails. She wondered how long it'd be before she heard from them.

  Like always, Frankie had her, even if her parents were unreliable.

  The door opened, and Cody appeared, holding a tea and a coffee.

  "Hey," Emilia whispered.

  "Hey," Cody replied, sitting in the chair beside hers.

  "They don't mind you staying so late?" Emilia asked, keeping her voice down and leaning closer to talk. The ICU seemed to be pretty strict.

  "Not after I lied and told them I was family," she said, smirking.

  Emilia’s eyebrows raised and she grinned. "Good call.”

  “Hey, guess what?” Cody said, looking suddenly excited.

  Emilia tilted her head, shrugging.

  “It’s after midnight, which means it’s Christmas,” Cody said, looking as excited as a child. “Merry Christmas, Emilia.”

  “Oh,” Emilia said, glancing toward the window. They had drawn the curtains. She lifted one back to see a fresh blanket of snow on the ground and trees. “Merry Christmas. I wish we could be welcoming it somewhere a little more…”

  “Or maybe a little less hospitaly?” Cody said, smiling to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah, about ten times less hospitaly,” Emilia nodded.

  She didn't know what level they were on again, and she didn't want to presume Cody wasn't still pissed at her. But that conversation was f
or an entirely different time.

  Cody cared about Frankie, and that's why she was there, right?

  Frankie moaned and turned in the bed, opening her eyes to look around, then down to Cody. "Why is there no music in here?" She asked, looking irritated.

  Cody raised her eyebrows. "Well, you were sleeping, and we didn't want to disturb you."

  "It's worse not to have music," Frankie said, turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "Did you call Nico about taking care of Austen?"

  "For the twelfth time, yes, Austen is being taken care of," Emilia said, reaching to pat Frankie's arm.

  "Did she send you any pictures? I just love her so much. I can't imagine how scared she is," Frankie said, tears streaming down her face.

  Emilia raised an eyebrow, turning to Cody. She was so upset about her dog, but remarkably calm about her own situation.

  Cody mouthed, "Morphine."

  Ah, that made sense. Emilia gave a small nod. "Okay, honey, we're going to let you get some sleep, okay?"

  "Music, please, I beg of you," Frankie said, turning her head to look at them, those big brown, tear-filled eyes piercing Emilia’s self-resolve.

  "Alright, but quietly," Emilia said, reaching to find Frankie's phone. They had plugged it in with a charger that the nurse had so kindly let them borrow.

  Emilia’s hands shook as she played the last song that had been playing. The Shrikes’ newest Christmas single. She put it on the lowest volume, setting it on the bedside table.

  Frankie was snoring within moments.

  Emilia gave a small shrug to Cody, who was biting her lip.

  "She's out pretty cold," Cody said, raising her voice slightly to test the volume level she could speak at without waking Frankie, Emilia assumed. Thanks to the morphine, the volume threshold was pretty high.

  Emilia sighed, smoothing out the skirt in a feeble attempt to get herself together. Her pencil skirt was wrinkled, her shirt had come untucked hours ago, her hair was a mess, and she had a run in her tights.

  "I was so scared it was you," Cody said, leaning forward in her chair.