Kathleen left the cemetery and drove toward the bridge at Tlaquepaque, the spot where Scott was killed. She slowed down as she came to the sharp curve, and noticed the new portion of bridge structure. A cold chill came over her as she drove across, and she suddenly wondered if it were true that a person’s spirit remains near the spot where they violently die.
Her thoughts caused her to miss the two cobblestone entrances into Tlaquepaque, a Hispanic-styled arts and craft village filled with dozens of expensive shops and art galleries.
Traffic was heavy on Highway 179 with summer tourists, so Kathleen turned left at Portal Lane, the entrance to Los Abrigados Resort, an exclusive hotel and health spa located behind Tlaquepaque. She found a shady parking spot to the left in the area used by hotel and shop employees and spent a moment to remove the smudge of dirt from her face.
Tlaquepaque never failed to delight Kathleen with its beautifully-planted gardens and fountains. Large sycamores draped the adobe courtyards and formed intricate shadows on the tiled walkways. While in the shaded coolness of its ivy-covered passageways, she always felt a sense of being elsewhere, like the heart of Mexico. During those times when she needed escape from her troubles, Kathleen would often come to Tlaquepaque and listen to the happy sounds of tourists delighted with the beauty of the place.
Rene At Tlaquepaque, a French restaurant, was a particular favorite of Kathleen’s. The restaurant’s cozy country French atmosphere gave it a sense of intimacy, and its reputation for fine food pulled in a clientele of wealthy residents and tourists. Kathleen decided to splurge on herself and meet Carrie Southern at Rene’s for lunch. She found Carrie at the bar drinking an Irish coffee.
“Hi, kid.” Carrie climbed down from the tall stool. She gave Kathleen a hug and then put her at arm’s length to look at her.
“You look a hell of a lot better than you did last time I saw you.”
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