Instead, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
“I need to stop waiting for Michael to decide what happens to my life.”
It was the first time she had said anything that sounded like a decision rather than a wound.
I smiled.
“Now you’re talking.”
She pointed a finger at me.
“Don’t encourage me. I might become difficult.”
“Karen, you raised Daniel. I know you’re already difficult.”
She laughed so loudly that the waitress glanced over.
And for the first time in twenty-two years, Karen Mercer seemed to be laughing for herself.When I dropped her at her sister’s house just before dawn, she paused with one hand on the passenger door.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You’ve thanked me about six times.”
“I might need to thank you seven.”
“There’s a loyalty program. Your eighth ride is free.”
She smiled.
Then she leaned across and kissed my cheek.
