I knock on the door. Terese says, “Come in.”

I enter.

“Well?” she says, spinning toward me.

Have you ever seen a beautiful, happy bride in a wedding gown? Then you know.

“Wow,” I say.

“You sound like Myron.”

I pick up her hand and kiss it.

“I just wanted to wish you well,” I tell her. “I want you to know that like it or not, I will always be there for you.”

She nods. “I know.”

“And if you break his heart, I’ll break your legs.”

“I know that too.”

I kiss her cheek and leave the room.

You are probably wondering about the repercussions after Rhys’s body was discovered. Allow me to fill you in. As you saw in the news, the entire truth has come out. No one, of course, is charging Patrick with any crime. As Brooke said, standing over that ravine, he was just a child.

The Baldwins—Brooke, Chick, and Clark—are as well as one might expect. Myron likes to say that even the ugliest truth is better than the prettiest of lies. I don’t know whether that is always the case, but it seems to be the case here. They know now. Brooke buried Rhys in our family cemetery outside Philadelphia. They mourn and continue to mourn.

But they also move on.

Clark remains a close friend and college suitemate of Francesca’s. She didn’t know the truth until Patrick returned. Nancy Moore felt that her daughter would be strong enough and mature enough to handle it then.

She was, of course, wrong.

For the most part, Hunter Moore has recovered from his injuries. There will be charges, mostly related to his halfhearted kidnapping of Vada Linna. I don’t know how that case will turn out. We will have to see.

As for Nancy Moore, law enforcement is actively searching for her, though I doubt that she is much of a priority. After her release on her own recognizance that night, Nancy Moore, it seems, took a page out of her son’s playbook and disappeared into the ether. Law enforcement insists that they will not rest until she is found.

Myron asked me whether we would search for her too—if we would help bring Nancy Moore to justice.

No, I told him. We did this for Brooke. If it is over for her, then it is over for us.

But enough about that.

Myron is getting married today. I stand up on the dais with him. When his bride-to-be turns the corner, when he first gets a look at Terese in her gown, I hear Myron mutter, “Wow.”

I smile and say, “I concur.”

Terese’s parents are deceased, so Myron’s father, Al, escorts her down the aisle. I look out over the crowd. They are all in this room. Big Cyndi is the maid of honor. Esperanza comes out from behind the curtain. She will, very soon, officiate this wedding. Oh, you may be wondering about the Little Pocahontas and Big Chief Mama situation. They both decided to retire their former Native American aliases. Some may mourn that. Not Esperanza. “Giving a culture too much respect,” Esperanza told me, “never killed anyone.”