Colleen stood up, stashing her phone in her back pocket and swallowing her sudden fury. With effort, she pushed down the urge to vehemently deny her sister’s statement, to call her a liar, to declare that she’d only ever wanted one guy.

“Listen, I’m going outside for some fresh air. If the doc comes in, will you text me?”

“You were out of town.” Hallie folded her hands on her lap, her fingers inside her knotted fists like when they were kids and would play “here’s the church and here’s the steeple, open the door . . .” and then they’d wiggle their fingers for the people.

“What?” Colleen was a few steps from the door.

“When Walter and I began talking.”

Colleen paused, wanting to run but suddenly unable to move, her feet glued to the faux-wood floor.

“He came over to drop off a bouquet of gardenias for Mother; he’d heard her say she loved them. We arranged them in a vase and then we started talking. That’s all I did, Lena. I wanted to get to know my future brother-in-law.”

“Oh.” Apparently nothing was going to stop Hallie from unloading her tale of love and marriage. Colleen’s ears buzzed. From somewhere far away Hallie’s voice continued.

“He asked me about the party I was organizing for the Shepherds’ anniversary, and gave me great ideas for a company picnic I was stuck on. We talked and talked. He had such good ideas and then he quoted a line from Shakespeare . . .”

Colleen startled and held up her hand. “I bet I know what it is.”

Hallie shook her head. “No. This was between us. I never told you.”

“‘Now, my fair’st friend, I would I had some flowers o’ the spring that might become your time of day; and yours, and yours.’”

Hallie’s lips parted, trying to pull in air. “How did you know?”

“Because he quoted the same line to me on our first date.” Colleen felt something elemental shifting. “I found out later it’s the only one he knows and whenever he’s around flowers . . . he uses it. So what happened then?”

“That can’t be true. Now you’re just trying to be cruel. We shared our stories and he loved the same poets I did; he loved to talk about the meaning behind things.”

Colleen interrupted. “Like how the universe expands, and how we’re made of stardust and how time means nothing without space and how we have a purpose in life and we are meant to be here carrying our own blueprint . . .” Colleen spouted the long-remembered conversations she’d had with Walter, the ones that had kept her a little bit in love with him even as she hated him.

“Yes.” Hallie’s voice faded. “He loved to talk about things that mean something. Really mean something.” Her voice sounded strangled. “Did he talk about those things with you?”