“And you still talk too smoothly,” I told him.
We laughed until tears filled our eyes, right beside the brownies and the pitcher of iced tea. Pastor Wells politely pretended not to notice. My choir friend Marlene noticed everything, and I knew Sunday would bring plenty of questions.
Garrett asked whether he could buy me coffee, and I said perhaps a slice of pie too, if he was feeling generous.
He stayed through the bake sale, then paid for both coffee and pie before escorting me to my car as though we were still living in 1972, before life had separated us.
After that, we met at the same diner every Tuesday.
He spoke about his late wife, Patricia, who had been gone nearly 10 years, and his grown children, Margaret and Daniel, who lived close by and called every Sunday. I told him about Howard, our long good marriage, and the even longer quiet years that followed.
