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shook her head. “Mamie is probably urging him to do it so she can collect the insurance once he crashes into the Atlantic.”
    “Cynic. You don’t like her.”
    “She’s thirty years younger than he is! No, I don’t like her. She’s a black widow. All she’s missing is the red hourglass on her abdomen.”
    “Men can’t live without women. We do fine without them.”
    “He could have waited longer to remarry, you know.”
    “Well, he didn’t. He’s our father. We’d better make the best of it—and his drinking has slowed down, so be grateful.”
    “What is this, Grace? Wisdom 101?”
    “No. I just think these are hard times for you. Grappling with emotional hot wires has always been hard for you, just like being sensible and thinking about the future is hard for me.”
    “I certainly never expected Blackie to drop dead of a heart attack at fifty-four. I know he was fifteen years older than I am but he never seemed like it—because he never grew up, I guess.”
    “Never looked old, either. I’m starting to believe that when your number’s up, it’s up.”
    Cig squinted into the fire. “I’m sorry he died in your living room. If he hadn’t been dropping off those contracts for Will….”
    Grace reached for Cig’s hand. “If Blackie didn’t teach me anything else he sure taught me to grab life while you can.”
    “What shocks me is that I was twenty-two when I married him. What will I do if Hunter or Laura marry at twenty-two?”
    “Celebrate!”
    Cig blinked. “Celebrate? I ought to have them committed.”
    “Oh, Cig, remember the feeling?”
    Cig recalled the first time she saw Blackie. Maybe she had been enchanted, but the years, the infidelities, had burned away the sensation. “No, I don’t. Whatever I felt then I’ve forgotten, and I’ve lost the capacity to feel it, period.”
    Grace’s luminous eyes clouded. “Don’t say that, Cig.”
    “Why not? It’s true.”
    “If you feel that way, you’ve given up on life.”
    “I’ve got Hunter and Laura. I’m not giving up on life.”
    “Your life. Their lives are separate from yours.”
    “Their lives are separate from mine once they’re out of college, earning their own keep.”
    “Stop being obtuse,” Grace said sharply, her lips pursed together, a disapproving rosebud.
    “You’re telling me I’ve given up on life because I’m not driven by raging hormones. That’s what I’m getting out of the conversation. Yes, I miss Blackie… but I couldn’t rely on him. And I couldn’t stand the smell of other women on his skin. Stolen flowers.”
    “Huh?”
    “Stolen flowers seem to smell sweeter than the ones you’ve grown in your own garden. Those women were stolen flowers.”
    “You could have stolen a few of your own. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Vice versa in your case.”
    Cig shrugged. “When would I have had the time? Someone had to keep life stable for the kids.”
    “You were too busy being a martyr.”
    “I was not. I didn’t want my kids packing suitcases for their weekend with Dad. I figured maybe I would divorce him once Laura was in college and that would have been four years down the road. What’s four years?”
    “Could be the difference between life and death.”
    “In Blackie’s case it was.”
    “It’s not sinful to be happy. He was happy, but I agree he was irresponsible in some ways. He made a vow and he couldn’t keep it, he couldn’t stay faithful. But he fulfilled the rest of the marriage bargain.”
    “I fulfilled all of it!” Cig snapped.
    “You would never have divorced him.”
    “You started this. You said what was good for the gander is good for the goose.”
    Grace twisted some shiny hair around her forefinger. “Did I say that?”
    “Yes. You just did.”
    “Yeah… well, playing devil’s advocate. I’m not sure it matters if your husband is faithful to you. It only matters that you love him.”
    “Of course you say that. You’ve been unfaithful to