“Thank you, Mama. I feel good.” Violet pecked her mother on the cheek and went upstairs.

Almost too good, Alice thought. Maybe she would telephone Tolly and invite him to supper on Sunday night. Surely he’d take his wife home to her rightful place and Chet Wilson would stop pestering her daughter.

Violet didn’t care about anything but Chet’s next visit. She’d delayed her escape to Florida, reasoning she could travel from Birmingham as easily as Anniston. She would enjoy the small amount of time they had and return to what she regarded as the Mountain Brook Theater: she’d resume her role as Dr. Thompson’s happy wife. She felt she could do it with renewed enthusiasm because she knew she now had the strength to leave Tolly and find her daughter. This time away from him—especially with the attention Chet had lavished on her—built Violet back up.

As soon as she lulled Tolly into believing she’d settled back into their life, she’d work out her exit. He would be on his best behavior for at least a month or two, affectionate and reliable, carefully scheduling patients and avoiding liquor. Slipping away while he was in surgery would be easy. She would hire an investigator in St. Pete; she would disappear into the crowd of tourists. Even if she only saw her daughter from a distance it would be enough. It had to be.

Violet wished she could tell Chet what he’d done, how he’d brought her back to life after years of deadening herself to survive with Tolly.

She remembered the night she’d realized she was starting to fall in love with Chet Wilson. He’d stopped by after supper to drop off paperwork for her dad, and she’d followed him onto the porch to say goodbye. Her mother’s gardenias and white roses glowed in the moonlight as they sat on the steps between them.

Chet was unusually quiet, staring at the street. She studied his profile, memorizing every line and plane. She was searching for conversation, any conversation, to keep him there for another minute or two. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

He continued to look straight ahead. “You. Always you.” He shook his head slowly. “You’ve been the light in my life for as long as I can remember, Violet.” He picked up a stick and began dragging it along the step in front of him, then threw it into the yard. “Did you think it was lost on me? All you did for me back then? I hope not.” He wiped a single tear from his face and Violet reached for his hand before she could stop herself. “Don’t,” he pulled his hand away. “Don’t feel sorry for the kid you knew. He’s long gone.”