Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
She nodded. “Yes, there was a lot of damage.”
“I’ve never seen a Corvette after a wreck. What did the body look like?”
“Just, you know, crumpled metal. Like any other car.” Why was he focusing on the car?
Chet smiled gently and stared at her. “You did have a wreck, right? That’s what your dad said.”
Violet touched her face absently. “Yes, of course. I should’ve known better than to try to drive Tolly’s car.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Chet said. “A beautiful face like yours should never have a bruise. You’ll be fine in a few days, though, and you can forget this make-up.” He swiped at her cheek again, a tiny bit harder, then rubbed his finger and thumb together. “You don’t need it. You never have.” He turned his gaze to the window again and said softly, “I was there, you know. The day you married him.”
Violet felt a tiny collision in her chest. “How? Why didn’t I see you?”
“I made my aunt let me take the train home. I wasn’t going to miss it. Spent the entire time against the back wall of the church, then I sneaked away.” He took her hand. “Dr. Thompson is a lucky man.”
“I can’t believe you were there. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was a kid, Violet. Nobody cared if I was there.” Chet met her eyes and smiled. “Anyway, there’s not much in your life I haven’t heard about. I keep up.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words. Violet swallowed hard. The taste was back, coppery and biting.
Alice Glenn cleared her throat at the kitchen entrance, arms crossed in front of her patchwork apron. “Hello, Chet,” she said. “Shouldn’t you go on down and help your men in the basement now? Violet and I need to start thinking about cooking supper.”
twenty-three
RONNI
Deanna and I spent as many hours together as we could during her time in Alabama. Rick was working multiple shifts and I barely heard from him. I heard a lot from Deanna over late night glasses of wine, though.
We were curled up on the couch, Halle purring between us. I’d made it into a makeshift bed and invited her to stay the night. Deanna stroked the cat absently and asked, “How did you come to be so close to my mother?”