I assured them I would.
The guests gradually left.
Sophie was among the last.
She paused at my gate.
“I’m really sorry. We had no idea.”
“I know,” I said.
She glanced upstairs.
“I’m glad everyone got down safely.”
“So am I.”
When she left, Karen remained beside my front steps.
For the first time that evening, she seemed uncertain what to say.
“Evelyn, I never wanted anyone hurt.”
“Then why didn’t you listen when I said no?”
She looked at the house.
“Michael always let us come up.”
The mention of my husband stopped me.
“Michael invited you,” I said. “That’s different.”
Karen sighed.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t think I do.”
Michael had built the terrace over three summers. He’d worked on it during weekends, measuring every board twice and saving for materials whenever our budget allowed.
When he finally finished, he’d carried two old chairs upstairs and insisted we eat dinner beneath the stars.
