Enjoy an excerpt from Straub’s latest, a fun and absorbing summer read.
The bus hit Barbara just after eleven.
It was not a pricey indulgence, if weighed against the cost of proper conditioner.
On every eighth Monday, Birdie also gave Astrid a trim.
Anyway, Nancy had retired and Astrid hadn’t missed her.
Astrid inspected her skin for spots.
A death knell for the town as the residents knew it.
Astrid still had a keep local, shop small sign in the dirt next to her mailbox.
She’d spent her own money making the signs and distributing them.
And if that had been in the village itself?
Astrid couldn’t imagine.
Barbara was standing on the sidewalk, just beside the mailbox in front of Shear Beauty.
Was she getting back into her car after mailing a letter?
Astrid would never know.
Astrid snapped the visor closed and leapt out of the car.
By the time she’d crossed the street, half a dozen people had already gathered.
There was blood, but nothing gorier than a twelve-year-old could see on online grid television.
“It was empty, Randall said.
He owned the gas station, which made him an easy authority on vehicles.
Except for the driver.
“Should I cover her up?
I shouldn’t cover her up, should I?
There’s been an accident.
“Oh, for Chrissakes, Birdie said, coming out of her shop.
She saw Astrid and pulled her aside.
She’d always kept an organized address book, and this was why, just in case.
The EMTs scooped Barbara’s body up and put her on the stretcher, an unflippable pancake.
When the ambulance had gone, Birdie pushed Astrid gently toward the salon’s door.
Shear Beauty had made some improvements over the years, some attempts at modernization.
If someone wanted a fancier place, they were welcome to find one.
“I can’t believe it, Astrid said.
She set her purse down on the bench.
I can’t believe it.
I’m in shock, I’m definitely in shock.
My brain is nonfunctional.
Am I having an aneurysm?
“You’re not having an aneurysm.
Those people just drop dead.
Birdie gently guided Astrid by the elbow and sat her down at the sink.
Just venture to relax.
Everyone shuffled, in the end.
Astrid sat and leaned back until her neck touched the cold porcelain of the sink.
If Randall was right and the bus had been empty that was important.
But that didn’t seem fair to Barbara.
She’d had a husband, and cats.
What was Barbara thinking about, when the bus was careering toward her?
Why had she parked there and not across the street?
What was on her list to do that day?
Astrid sat up, her hair dripping on her neck and her blouse.
“Are you all right?
Birdie asked, moving a towel onto Astrid’s shoulders.
“No, Astrid said, I don’t think so.
I didn’t even you know this I didn’t even like Barbara.
I just feel a little, well, shaken.
Birdie’s mouth was a straight line, as steady as a Catholic schoolteacher.
She always had a solution.
Astrid nodded slowly and offered Birdie her hand.
Astrid closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.
There was no time to waste, not in this life.
There were always more school buses how many times did a person have to be reminded?
This time, it was clear.
She was a sixty-eight-year-old widow.
Better late than never.
Excerpted fromAll Adults Hereby Emma Straub; Riverhead Books.
Copyright 2020 by Emma Straub.
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