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you.”
    “I love you too. We’ll talk to you soon.”
    “Bye, Daddy. Oh, and don’t forget to have mommy send me that letter.”
    “I won’t. Bye.”

TEN
    D ear Mimi,
    It was wonderful to talk to you the other day and catch up. I was glad to hear you’re still teaching swimming and that Gordon continues to be as prolific as ever. Sounds like you’re both really enjoying life. It’s great to know that some things never change.
    Thank you so much for you condolences on my mother. As hard as it was watching her in so much pain before she passed, ironically it helped me to have her to focus on while I got over Tracy’s death. Still, I found myself asking how much one man can take in such a short time. I guess what they say is true, that God never gives you more than you can bear.
    I don’t know if I ever let you and Gordon know how much Tracy meant to me. She was a beautiful, loving, wonderful woman who I was very lucky to have found. I flatter myself to think she felt as lucky as I did. Although we didn’t have nearly enough time together, we were so fortunate to have what we did. It took me a long time to get over what happened to her, and now it is only the good times I remember, not the horrible end.
    As I told you on the phone, I recently remarried. Paula and I knew each other in high school and well… she’s been just wonderful to me. With her patient and loving spirit as my guide I have been able to heal. I have to confess that at first, I felt guilty, like I was betraying Tracy somehow. But I also know she would want me to be happy and I am with Paula. We live a quiet (some might say dull!) life here, but we enjoy it and each other immensely. I’m working for another pharmacy here and Paula is a homemaker. I am fortunate to have been blessed with two wonderful marriages to two amazing women.
    I will never forget Tracy or everything she meant to me. She taught me how to love and what it meant to have a good relationship. For that, I’m forever grateful.
    Please give both Sondra and Gordon my best.
    Phillip
    Sondra re-read the letter several times. She looked at the picture he’d enclosed of himself and his new wife. She was tiny, a good foot shorter than Phillip, with a wide, toothy smile that dominated her smooth ebony visage. She was clad in a pink sweater and black skirt and held one arm loosely around Phillip. Her brother-in-law still wore the same thick glasses and dated hair and his propensity for plaid remained intact. The busy red, green, and blue pattern of his short-sleeved button-down shirt was tucked into blue slacks.
    Sondra stared at the photo for the better part of an hour before putting it and the letter back in the envelope and placing it on her kitchen table.
    After blowing through two cigarettes and a random late-night rerun of “Family Ties,” Sondra finally shuffled off to bed.

ELEVEN
    D rop off dry cleaning. Done. Stop at Target to return the teakettle that didn’t whistle. Check. Get groceries for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. Check, check. The only thing left to do was go home. Paula loaded the last of her packages into her folding shopping cart. Before she wheeled off in the direction of home, she took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at the dots of sweat on her forehead. Her face was devoid of makeup, so the only thing that smeared the white tissue was a thin layer of dirt from the day. She smoothed back her crinkly black hair, tucking a stray piece into the tight knot at the nape of her neck. Satisfied, Paula began the short walk to her house. She hummed to herself as she walked, the mottled black wheels of the cart raking over the wide concrete sidewalk in a rhythmic clatter.
    Paula lived in a master planned community shrewdly labeled by developers as a suburban village known as The Crossings. The idea was that you never had to go far for either your essentials or your entertainment, because they were all conveniently located within “The Pavilion,”