“Then you called Denise.”
“Then I called Aunt Denise. And then I needed to be completely sure. So I waited.”
“For what?”
“For the rehearsal dinner. Last night.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I sat next to Crystal at the rehearsal dinner. And I asked her, very casually, ‘Mom, what was your
favorite flower to draw on all those cards you sent me?’” Hannah’s voice went flat. “And she smiled and said, ‘Roses, honey. I always loved drawing roses.’”
I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
“I told Dad last night after the rehearsal,” Hannah said. “He told me everything. About the mailbox when I was seven. About the kitchen table. About you saying the cards were a gift, not a weapon.” She wiped her eyes. “He said you wouldn’t let him tell me. Even when she was telling everybody
you were the villain.”
