OK, I get that you don’t want to hear about any of that. It was rude of me to go there. Let’s back up and pretend I never said it.

It’s in my mind to ask how you are. I’d really like to know, but it kind of scares me too.

You might not realize it but I think about you a lot, and what happened. In my head I see myself going through it again, doing what I did, and you being there . . . Why the fuck were you there? Sorry about swearing, but why the eff were you?

I’m going to ask Dan that the next time he comes. I hope he comes. See that, Dan? I said I hope you come, and once you’re done getting on my case about my language maybe you’ll answer the question.

Why was she there?

Chapter Sixteen

The last thing Marcy had expected when she’d moved to Kesterly was to find herself becoming involved with a man, especially one who was, if not in looks then in character, so like her husband of over thirty years. However, it was happening, and there was no resisting it, for Henry Matthews was as charming as the stars and as kind and entertaining as any man she’d ever known. She was even prepared to admit, but only to herself, that when she wasn’t enjoying his company she spent a good deal of the time looking forward to seeing him again.

They worked well together at the community center, organizing all sorts of activities from special outings for deprived children, right through to tea dances and old movie nights for those of their own age and over. They’d joined the same poetry group—neither of them could write it, but they enjoyed listening and having it explained—and the dreaded golf lessons were actually going quite well. She’d even managed to get him onto the selection committee for the spring concert she was sponsoring mostly as a showcase for Jasmine, but also to help promote local musicians.

And now here they were meeting for dinner at the Crustacean, one of the town’s fanciest restaurants, before Henry left for Hereford in the morning to spend Christmas with his son and daughter-in-law. The place was aglow with seasonal lights and carols were playing softly on the music system, creating such an infectious sense of goodwill that as Marcy looked into Henry’s humorous brown eyes, she was finding it hard to stop smiling. She liked this man, she really did, and why wouldn’t she? His easygoing nature, effortless integrity, and sixty-five-year-old laughter lines were an irresistible combination.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his words imbued with their habitual hint of irony.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she countered.