“He left nothing here,” I heard my voice saying. My heart was in my throat. My heart was breaking with songs.

Then I best be going, Mr. Watkin said. Showing up unannounced on your front porch wasn’t how I thought we would meet, Mrs. Hearn. I hope to see you again when I’ve better news or, if I don’t, I’ll send a letter to you and Bill from New Orleans, Mrs. Hearn.

Mr. Watkin turned to leave.

I hadn’t invited him in, although the night had been spitting rain at us.

Then, sudden as winter, he turned back around.

Did Lafcadio tell you that I was to be a witness? he asked. At your marriage, Mrs. Hearn. I was all set to come that day, but then the wife thought—well, it doesn’t matter now. I know Lafcadio was disappointed. He said a neighbor woman did it in my stead. I apologize, Mrs. Hearn, for not being there for him and for you. He’s like a son to me, Mrs. Hearn.

Could you say that again, Miss?

Excuse me for saying, but given your question I don’t think you’ve heard a word that I’ve been saying.

I’ll make it plain. I didn’t mention Mr. Watkin to you before, Miss, because I’m the one who’ll have to go to court to be included in Pat’s life. There’s no one who’s denying Mr. Watkin’s claim to friendship, is there?

No, Miss, I never went by “Mrs. Hearn.”

Mr. Watkin just assumed that I did.

For the day-to-day, I was Alethea Foley. Cincinnati is a big city, but the boardinghouses and their owners all know one another, so do their cooks and their washerwomen, and everyone else who makes their living in those hives. I didn’t want it to get back to Mrs. Haslam that I’d left her kitchen to marry one of her boarders. If I had to return to someone else’s kitchen one day, I wanted to make sure that I could.

It was a good thing I had that thought—Aunt Sweetie would have been proud—because that was where I ended up, right back at Mrs. Haslam’s. A paying job was a paying job. I knew Mrs. Haslam’s ways, and she knew mine. I’d heard that she had a string of gals working for her since I’d left and that her cook was about to leave because she was in the family way, unmarried, and can’t hide her condition for much longer. When I took over Mrs. Haslam’s kitchen again, it was as if I’d never left. I was glad to be paid to cook again.

After Mr. Watkin left that night, I asked Bill to write a letter to Pat for me. There were things that I couldn’t say to my husband in front of the boy, so I kept those to myself.