Judith wasn’t a fan of lateness. She detested it. “Why can’t we ever be on time?” she would moan to Eric. “I hate being late.”

Eric always tried to leave on time, but certain things remained out of his control.

“How was I supposed to know about the gridlock, Judith?” he would say. “They didn’t forecast this rain either.”

Judith knew compromise was a steady feature of life—Eric’s lateness was something she just had to deal with. His voice echoed in her mind.

“You don’t hear me complaining about twenty-five pillows on the bed, Judith.”

“There you go. Always exaggerating. Can’t even get into bed on time.”

“So many pillows. I’ll be dead before I get in there.”

Judith sipped her French Earl Gray, flicked through the pages of Country Living. She made note of each bedroom, the perfectly manicured photos, and how each room had a beautiful selection of pillows.

She tapped the face of her watch. Catherine would arrive shortly—always on time. So reliable that Judith ordered on her behalf. 

“Eggs Benedict and a hot chocolate, please,” she said. “With an extra marshmallow.”

Judith liked this predictability.

As life ebbed and flowed, Monday lunches with Catherine remained constant. Their lunches stood firm; outlasting fashion trends, marriages, and even the lives of their peers. 

Catherine slammed down her stick, careful not to slip on the damp concrete outside. The last thing she needed was to injure her good hip. She once read a statistic on death rates from falls in the elderly. Couldn’t remember it, but knew it wasn’t good.

“Sorry I’m late, Judith,” she said, breathing heavily. 

They glanced at the clock near the counter.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Judith laughed. “You still had another two minutes!”

The waitress walked over, placed their meals on the table. “Can I get you anything else ladies?”

“Just a new hip, thanks Ellie,” smirked Catherine. 

“You’ll have me reaching for the Tums!” laughed Judith.  

Their Eggs Benedict were cooked to perfection—anything else was not good enough for Redwood Café’s most loyal customers.

“I went to see Walter yesterday,” said Catherine, sipping her cappuccino, enjoying the froth.

“Oh?” replied Judith. “And how is the ex-husband?”

“Still dead,” said Catherine. “Kangaroos had stripped the azaleas bare and shit all over him.”

“Stop!” laughed Judith, clutching her chest, red-faced. “There’s only so much laughter a girl can take at our age!”

It was a friendship that spanned decades, yet they still had their differences. Like in all good relationships, these only made their friendship stronger. While Judith enjoyed gossip about the Royals and browsing real estate, Catherine preferred crosswords and newspaper obituaries.

“I saw poor Max Hoffmann died last week,” announced Catherine, wiping Hollandaise sauce from her lip. 

“There goes another one,” reflected Judith. “How many left from Year 8 now?”

“Can’t be many.”

Ellie, the smiling waitress, approached with another pot of Earl Gray.

“Careful of the bag, dear,” said Judith, moving it under the table. 

“I would go with you if I could,” assured Catherine, lowering her voice.

“I know,” sighed Judith. “Just something that has to be done.”

“I’m dreading my appointment later too,” said Catherine. “Hopefully they’ll give me a date this time.”

“We make a good pair,” laughed Judith. “Both dreading the afternoon.”

“We’ll probably laugh about it next week!” replied Catherine.

“True,” said Judith, shifting in her seat. “I just hate lateness.”

They finished lunch, leaving behind empty plates, a third pot of Earl Gray, and no doubt as to who Max Hoffman fancied in Year 8. For the record, it was Agatha Cooper. They often caught him reading Agatha Christie books and figured her name sealed the deal.

“Good luck,” said Catherine, hugging her dear friend. 

“You too,” smiled Judith, leaning over her walking frame to embrace. “Your scan will be fine.”

They departed in separate directions, Judith’s canvas bag resting on the seat of her walker. She could see the building up ahead, children running outside, students carrying laptops.

There weren’t many things that made Judith nervous. She had seen much and done plenty in life.  Nothing could surprise her these days, yet she hadn’t expected to make this discovery in the wardrobe shared with Eric. It made her nervous. She had a reputation to keep. 

She clutched the walker, noticing her palms clammy. 

“One foot, then the other,” she told herself. The sliding doors opened. She couldn’t back out now. “Time to face the music.”

A young man stood at the front desk, adjusting a murder-mystery display, trying to make himself look busy. 

“Excuse me,” said Judith, harnessing her strength to place the bag on the counter. “I believe these belong to you.”

“Let’s take a look!” the young man replied. 

Judith rocked on her toes, knowing the man’s enthusiasm would soon disappear.

“Oh,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Looks like we have some latecomers!”

She knew this would happen. She had rehearsed the lines in front of the mirror that stood atop the old pinewood dresser her mother had left.

“These books,” she started. “They were on my late husband’s card.”

There was a brief pause, as Eric’s death processed between them.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the young man said, placing his hand on hers. “I’ll sort this out for you.”

Judith was taken by the librarian’s kindness; a weight lifted from her shoulders, reputation intact. 

“Thank you, dear,” she said, collecting her empty bag. “I appreciate it.”

“Please take a look around,” he gestured. “We also have some great classes that meet weekly.”

Judith studied the pamphlet he slid across the desk.

“Oh wow,” she said. “Libraries have more than just books these days.”

“Yes, there’s a sewing class later today,” he smiled. “I hear they’re making pillows.”