Rebecca listened to each one while making notes.
My father did not listen after the third. He stood by the window, staring out at the gardens as the sky turned from black to pearl-gray.
At six in the morning, I finally slept.
Not in my childhood bedroom. I couldn’t bear the thought of walking past old photographs of ballet recitals, school awards, and summer vacations with my mother’s arm around me.
I slept in the guest room closest to the sitting room, curled beneath a quilt while my wedding dress hung over the back of a chair like a ghost.
When I woke, the sunlight was too bright.
For one blissful second, I forgot.
Then my hand moved toward the space beside me, looking for a warmth that wasn’t there, and the whole night returned.
Cynthia’s heels.
Brenda’s voice.
Elias laughing.
Plain rice.
I sat up slowly.
