"Not in my line of work." She thought about a presentation she'd have to give for a tough, starchy nursing supervisor at University Medical Center.
She batted her eyes and smiled mischievously. "Seth's going to be there. Don't you want to see him again?"
"I do. We agreed that I'd come out in January, when I have some time on my hands. If the snow's not too deep."
"It's the Who! You know! Tommy? Pinball Wizard? Won't Get Fooled Again?
And we get to see them for free!"
"Can't we just wait until they come to St. Louis?"
"But it won't be free then. And Seth won't be there. Come on! Please?"
Lauren's persistence mystified her. "Don't any of your cat-friends want to go? Julie, or Penny?"
"They're not as fun as you," Lauren said, without hesitation. "And besides, they don't have boyfriends there that are dying to be with them."
Linda allowed her eyes to roll. "Seth's not a boyfriend. For all I know, he's got three other women stashed away somewhere."
Lauren shook her head. "He loves you! When are you going to get that through your thick skull?" To punctuate her point she lightly tapped Linda on the top of her head, with her knuckles.
"It just doesn't seem like a good idea. It just doesn't."
Lauren let the silence hang between them for a moment. "Well you're going to miss a good time." She left a short time later.
Her strenuous schedule and the Thanksgiving Break caused her to forget all about Lauren's concert offer. The next time it occurred to her, she shrugged it off, knowing that Lauren would just find another one of her zillion friends to drag up to Cincinnati.
When the first weekend in December rolled around, she'd forgotten all about it. One Monday night, she'd settled in for a night of studying, which meant she wore her footie pajamas, drank lots of tea and kept the television set on in the background, to keep her company. A string of mindless, silly sitcoms played, with their annoying laugh tracks or studio audience chatter. At one point, she rested her head against the stack of pillows and fell asleep. The blaring sound from the television woke her. Suddenly all that mirth stopped, however, and the foreboding words "Special Report" blazed across the television screen, against a white background. A fatherly newscaster delivered the information in somber style: "We have breaking news of a tragedy in Cincinnati."