Chapter 11 - Denise
Denise had slipped on her back steps and broken her wrist. She was annoyed by the hospital gown and more annoyed that everyone kept asking if she felt dizzy.
“You sound just like me,” I told her when I arrived.
“I’ve learned from the best.”
Her brother, Paul, brought us coffee and left us alone.
“I didn’t tell Stuart where you’re going,” Denise said. “Lily came over yesterday while you were at the lawyer’s. She saw the Asheville guidebook on your counter.”
I remembered leaving it there.
I had rented a small furnished apartment in Asheville for six months. I wanted mountains, bookstores, and time to decide where I belonged next.
“Lily hasn’t told her parents the address,” Denise said. “She called me because she was worried about you driving there alone.”
My throat tightened.
The next evening, Lily came by while I was wrapping framed photographs.
“I’m sorry I looked at your things,” she said.
“It was on the counter.”
“I thought maybe you weren’t going to tell us.”
“I was going to tell you and Max before I left.”
She glanced at the empty spaces on the wall.
“Are you coming back?”
“To visit you? Yes. To live in this house? No.”
She picked up the photograph of Stuart as a child.
“Dad was crying last night.”
“I’m sorry he’s hurting.”
“Are you going to forgive him?”
“I don’t know what that will look like yet.”
She nodded, accepting an answer most adults in my life would have argued with.
My phone rang. It was Martha.
“The Hendersons are ready,” she said. “We can close Friday.”
After Lily left, I found a message from an unfamiliar number.
May you like
I’m sorry about Thanksgiving. You need to know what Jennifer promised my father.
It was signed by Jennifer’s younger brother, Aaron.
