Thoughtful.
And almost impossible to provoke.
His mother was another matter.
Rosemary attended church every Sunday.
Sang alto in the choir.
Got her hair done at Lorraine’s on Thursdays.
And seemed to know everyone in Blair County.
She was a good woman in many ways.
She brought meals to sick neighbors.
Remembered birthdays.
And made ham loaf so good that people requested it for family celebrations.
But Rosemary loved solving other people’s problems.
Whether or not those people had asked for help.
Carrie had a rule about her mother-in-law.
“Never tell Rosemary anything you wouldn’t want announced at the next church supper.”
So Carrie had told her almost nothing about my divorce.
Rosemary knew I was single.
She knew I had a daughter.
She knew my business had grown.
But she’d never heard my side of the story about Misty.
And the woman who’d been telling Rosemary about her unhappy marriage during Thursday hair appointments was Misty herself.
I didn’t know that when I accepted the dinner invitation.
I simply wanted one nice Sunday evening with Abby before she left for school.
So we went.
And found seven place settings at a table occupied by six people.
Which brings me back to the tuna noodle casserole.
Misty sat beside me in the chair Rosemary had reserved.
She placed the casserole between the ham loaf and the scalloped potatoes.
Then carefully unfolded her napkin.
Rosemary smiled brightly.
“Now, I know this is a little unusual.”
Carrie closed her eyes.
“Rosemary, please.”
But Rosemary had prepared a speech, and nothing short of a power outage was going to stop it.
She folded her hands.
“I have watched this poor woman struggle with the end of her marriage for years.”
I looked toward Misty.
She stared at her plate.
Rosemary continued.
“Every Thursday at Lorraine’s, she talks about how much she misses you, Perry.”
I took a sip of water.
“Does she?”
“She does.”
Rosemary nodded emphatically.
“Five years apart because two people were too proud to say they were sorry.”
Across the table, Casey looked as though he wanted to crawl beneath his chair.
My phone vibrated.
A message from him.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what she planned.”
I glanced up.
He stared harder at his water glass.
Rosemary continued.
“Sometimes all people need is someone brave enough to bring them together.”
Sid looked toward the kitchen.
“Is there more pie?”
“Later, Sidney.”
I took a small serving of the casserole.
It was a little dry.
I figured if I was going to sit through an unexpected reunion, I might as well eat.
Then I looked toward Misty.
“How’s Janet?”
She smiled nervously.
“Fine.”
“And Dallas?”
Her expression changed.
“He’s doing all right.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
She looked toward me.
Then lowered her voice.
“Perry, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time.”
I waited.
She reached into the pocket of her dress.
Then took out a yellow sticky note.
She smoothed it flat on the table.
Slid it toward me.
And waited.
Five words were written in the center.
“I’m ready to talk now.”
I looked at the note.
Then at her.
For a moment, I thought about the thirty-one days she’d spent refusing to speak to me.
The refrigerator notes.
The messages delivered through Moose.
The way Abby had learned to accept silence as part of our household routine.
Then I looked back at Misty.
“That’s a familiar color.”
She smiled uncertainly.
“I thought you’d remember.”
“I do.”
Her eyes filled.
“I waited thirty-one days for you to apologize, Perry.”
I nodded.
“I remember.”
“And instead, you gave me divorce papers.”
I took a breath.
“Yes.”
She looked toward Rosemary.
Then back at me.
“You threw away five years over a truck.”
Abby set down her fork.
For the first time all evening, she looked directly at Misty.
“It wasn’t just the truck.”
Misty blinked.
“Abby, sweetheart—”
My daughter shook her head.
“You made me deliver messages because you wouldn’t talk to Dad.”
Misty looked uncomfortable.
“That was a difficult time.”
Abby nodded.
“It was.”
Then she continued.
“You’d come to my room and tell me to say something to him when he was standing ten feet away.”
Rosemary frowned.
“She involved you?”
Abby looked toward her.
“Yes.”
Misty sighed.
“Abby, I helped raise you.”
My daughter’s expression softened slightly.
“I know.”
Then she added quietly, “And there were good times. But that month wasn’t one of them.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
I looked toward Abby.
I was proud of the calm way she’d expressed herself.
She wasn’t trying to humiliate anyone.
She was simply telling the truth about something that had affected her.
Misty pressed a napkin to her eyes.
“I came here because I miss Perry.”
I waited.
She continued.
“Because we had a life together. Because I think we could start over.”
Rosemary nodded eagerly.
“Exactly.”
Then Misty said something she apparently hadn’t intended to reveal so soon.
“And honestly, the timing makes sense. My lease is up in a few weeks.”
The dining room became very quiet.
Even Sid stopped looking toward the kitchen.
I studied Misty.
“Your lease?”
Her cheeks colored.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
I waited.
She continued.
“I’ve been thinking about downsizing, and I thought maybe we could talk about what happened between us.”
I took a breath.
“Misty, are you asking to rebuild our relationship, or are you asking whether there’s room for you at my house?”
Her expression tightened.
“Can’t both things be true?”
I considered the question.
“Maybe.”
For a moment, she looked hopeful.