“I did,” I said. “I’m so sorry I hung up on you.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” I could hear her smiling. “I’d have hung up on me too. I just about had a heart attack. I thought I’d gone and spoiled the whole thing.”
“You didn’t.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s okay. Mostly.” I hesitated. “He got lost a few days ago. Driving. He ended up on Route 9, heading north.”
Carol didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“Heading this way,” she said quietly.
“Heading your way.”
“Well,” she said, and her gravelly voice went soft. “I guess some part of him already knew where he was supposed to be.”
Sophie and I went dress shopping on a Saturday in early September.
I didn’t want anything fancy. I was fifty-one. I’d already had the big white dress once, my mother’s, with the high lace collar that itched like crazy.
