“And their children?” I said. “Are you close to them?”

“I always liked Derek,” he replied. “Decent fellow, kind of shy and quiet back then. I never really got to know his wife, Sidra.”

“How about Judith?” I asked, and to my surprise Tom laughed.

“Back then, Judith terrified me,” he said. “Because we weren’t that far apart in age, Marion got it in her head to fix the two of us up on a date.”

“Oh?”

“Judith was very direct, very aggressive. We went dancing, and I think she even led on the dance floor. When it was time to order dinner, she did it for both of us. I felt as if, given the chance, she could grind me into the ground with her two-inch heels.”

I chuckled, trying to picture the laid-back Tom on a date with the older, more overbearing Judith.

“Our disappointment in each other was mutual, I think. We ended the date as friends, though we never exactly palled around.”

“She’s an attractive woman,” I said. “She never married?”

“Nope,” Tom answered with a laugh. “I guess she could never find anyone willing to love her, honor her, and obey her.”

I found Marion alone at the breakfast table. She wasn’t really eating, merely pushing around a small pile of eggs with her fork. In the morning light, I could see the heavily etched lines in her face; her eyes were swollen, and despite the artfully applied makeup I could tell she probably hadn’t slept all night.

“You made it through the first night,” I said gently as I pulled up a chair across from her. “It can only get better from here.”

“Oh, I hope so,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“I remember the first night after Bryan died,” I said. “I woke up screaming. I couldn’t stop. They finally had to bring in a doctor to sedate me.”

“I know how you felt.”

“But the next night I didn’t scream, I only cried. The night after that, I cried again. But each night it got a little better and a little better, and eventually I was able to go to sleep at night without praying I would die before morning.”

Marion pushed her plate away and rested her head in her arms.

“I didn’t know it would be so hard.”

“No one ever does.”

“I mean, we weren’t spring chickens, you know. Wendell’s health was very bad, Callie. Between the diabetes and the dialysis, I’d been preparing myself for his death for some time.”

“Oh, you can prepare for death, Marion. You just can’t prepare for your life after his death.”

One tear slipped down her cheek, and she dabbed at it gently with her napkin.

“You’re very wise for one so young,” she said.

“It’s taken a lot of heartache to get me this way,” I answered. “I’d rather have been spared the pain and remained naive.”

Angelina entered, bringing Marion a fresh cup of coffee.