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concerned.
    â€œIt’s just—I—” Marian shook her head. “Ever since Bill died, it’s been a strain to even talk to Katherine. It takes everything I have to be civil. Katherine still insists on holding on to the fantasy that Bill was the one who quit working for Drew, that he resigned in order to start his own company. And she refuses to even acknowledge that the real reason Bill left the agency was that Drew out-and-out fired him. After it happened, things were never the same again between us, any of us.”
    When Bitsy had first told Charlotte about Drew’s and Bill’s relationship, Charlotte had ignored the information as simply gossip. But now it seemed as if the old lady had been right all along. It also explained Marian’s initial reaction to Katherine’s call.
    â€œIt didn’t use to be that way,” Marian continued in a sad, longing voice. “There was a time when the three of us—Bill, Drew, and I—were inseparable. Then, when Drew married Katherine, we grew even closer…for a while. But that was a long time ago…an eternity.”
    Charlotte squeezed Marian’s shoulder. “I wonder, have you ever considered that maybe Katherine truly doesn’t realize what really happened, that Drew fired Bill? Maybe she only knows what her husband told her,” she offered by way of explanation.
    Marian simply stared at Charlotte. “Oh, I’ve considered it all right. At first. I even tried to set her straight about it. But ever since Drew’s plane went down, she’s been different. She only hears what she wants to hear, and she absolutely refuses to listen to anything negative about him. In her eyes, he was a saint.” Marian laughed, a bitter sound without humor. “But I knew him long before he married Katherine. And I know what he’s—what he was capable of. Drew Bergeron was no saint by any stretch of the imagination. But, hey—” Marian suddenly brightened, albeit assuming a facade that Charlotte recognized for what it was, a cover-up for her embarrassment. “I’m sure you have better things to do than to listen to my boring past.”
    Charlotte smiled gently. “Any time you need someone to talk to, my middle name is discretion.” Then, to save Marian further embarrassment, Charlotte changed the subject. “I do have to get going though, but good luck with Aaron—I hope he feels better soon—and I’ll see you on Monday.”
    After retrieving her purse from the kitchen, Charlotte stopped by Aaron’s room on her way out to say good-bye. But the little boy was curled up on his bed, fast asleep.
    The sleep of the angels, she thought. All little children looked like angels while they slept. How many times had she stood just inside her own little boy’s bedroom and simply watched him sleep? Not enough, she decided as a heavy feeling settled in her chest. And her son was no longer a little boy but a grown man.
    Unbidden, a quote from Agatha Christie popped into her mind. One doesn’t recognize in one’s life the really important moments—not until it’s too late. No truer words had ever been spoken, Charlotte decided as the heaviness in her chest grew. If only she’d known then what she knew now, if she’d realized how fast the years would go by, just how soon she’d be facing her sixtieth birthday, wouldn’t she have savored those moments a lot more?
    Easing out of the room, Charlotte felt a tear slide down her cheek. Maybe she would have, she thought as she slowly made her way down the hall. At least she hoped she would have.
    Â 
    Outside, the afternoon sky was clouding over, giving the day a dreary cast that only seemed to deepen Charlotte’s melancholy mood. As she trudged slowly down the narrow sidewalk to the van, it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. The temptation to simply go home and crawl into bed was