My Son Brought

”

She understood the reference. Color rose in her cheeks.

“I deserved that,” she said.

Those three words startled me enough that I nearly moved.

Nearly.

I held the door.

She looked older. Not frail. Diane Whitaker would never allow frailty without proper lighting. But tired. Smaller somehow.

“I’ve had time to think,” she said.

I waited.

“I handled Christmas continue reading …