Found by Elle Field Page B

looks like she was born and bred on the Upper East Side. Wearing a stylish outfit that would rival – well, it pains me to say – Felicity, she’s dressed in an immaculate dark-grey peplum skirt suit with a cropped boxed jacket. Half a dozen rows of pearls sit tastefully on her dazzling, white, pussycat bow blouse, and a blingtastic owl-shaped brooch is pinned on her jacket. Rose gold in colour, its eyes appear to be made from sapphires. Small diamonds are dotted along its wings. This woman has serious taste.
    ‘Thanks,’ I mumble as I crumple up the wet tissue. I feel like a mucky tramp in comparison to this refined elderly lady who has joined me on the bench, though she looks over-dressed to be sitting in a park on a muggy weekday evening. She’s probably on her way to some benefit or function.
    ‘Are you OK, dear?’
    The dear stings, even with the American accent, because the pleasantry reminds me of Felicity and how we first met when I was sitting on a pavement in Bournemouth, feeling glum. I start to cry all over again at the memory. I can’t believe she’s gone.
    ‘A good cry can make us feel better,’ she murmurs sympathetically, once my huge racking sobs have subsided to a mere sniffle. I bet she is seriously regretting coming over to me now, and I wonder who this woman is.
    ‘Eve,’ she says.
    Huh? Did I air that thought out loud?
    ‘I’m Eve,’ she repeats, ‘and I live over there.’ She nods at one of the brownstones. Going on her outfit and her address, this woman is clearly loaded. She’s probably cursing that they let people like me into her private sanctuary; she’s probably trying to calm me down so she can ask me to leave.
    ‘I’m Arielle,’ I huskily say as I dab at my face again with another fresh tissue that Eve has pressed into my hand. ‘I’m staying at the hotel,’ I explain, feeling like I should, though I have every right to be in here, too.
    ‘Oh, you’re a Brit. How lovely!’
    I smile weakly at that because I’m not quite sure what to say in response. Saying thanks seems a little weird because it’s not as if I chose to be British. It’s just something I am.
    ‘Well it’s nice to meet you, Arielle, even if you’re not feeling too cheery today.’
    ‘Likewise,’ I mumble because it’s hard to make small talk when you’re trying not to hyperventilate or throw up over someone you’ve just met.
    We sit here in companionable silence whilst I get myself under control. When I’m certain I’m not going to burst into tears again, I thank Eve for the tissues. She is still sitting next to me as if she has all the time in the world, though maybe she has.
    ‘My pleasure, dear.’
    Another sting at the “dear” remark but no tears this time.
    ‘I hope you’re feeling a bit better,’ she continues.
    ‘I am. Thank you,’ I add politely, though I feel far from fine.
    She looks at me expectantly and, again, I have to fight back the tears. Is this how it’s going to be every time that I see a well-dressed lady of a certain age who happens to look at me in an inquisitive manner, just as Felicity did? I really hope not.
    ‘I’ve just had news of a death,’ I gulp, feeling the need to explain, ‘and my fiancé is poorly. He’s in the hospital,’ I clarify, ‘and not allowed to travel back to the UK for a few months...’ I shrug. ‘Sorry. I’m all over the place. I’ve had a lot to deal with.’
    ‘How terrible,’ she softly says, ‘and I’m so sorry for your loss. Sometimes though, and I know it’s awful that people say this, but sometimes it is better for people to go before their time. There’s less suffering that way, and no one wants a loved one to suffer, do they?’
    ‘I guess not,’ I mutter as tears start to fall down my face again. I quickly turn away from Eve.
    Watching a bee buzz back and forth between the flowerbeds, I try to calm down, though those words play over in my head. Is that what Felicity did? Chose to go now before she really