I'm ready to talk. Tomorrow afternoon, at the Whitfield house. Just us.
Nora stared at the screen.
For a moment, she felt the old fear return.
The fear of being judged.
Rejected.
Told that her feelings no longer mattered.
Then she looked toward the letter she had written.
The photograph of the bridge.
Her business disclosures.
And the truth she had spent too long avoiding.
She typed a reply.
I'll be here.
Then she placed the phone down.
She knew tomorrow might end the possibility of a life with Daniel.
But she also knew something she had failed to understand as a girl.
Love could not survive forever on promises alone.
Eventually, somebody had to tell the truth.
And allow the other person to decide what to do with it.
Daniel arrived at the Whitfield house shortly after two.
He parked his old pickup beside the iron gates and sat for several seconds looking at the building.
He remembered it from childhood.
The white columns.
The broad porch.
The tall windows.
The garden enclosed by a low stone wall.
At fourteen, he had been frightened to approach it. The house belonged to people whose lives seemed entirely separate from his own.
Now he was sixty.
A widower.
A father.
A business owner facing an uncertain future.
And somehow, the same house still made him feel like the boy from the railroad tracks.
He turned off the engine.
Then climbed out.
Nora opened the front door before he reached the steps.
She wore a simple cream sweater, dark trousers, and low shoes. Her glossy black hair was held away from her face by the white headband he had begun to associate with her.
She looked nervous.
"Hello."
Daniel nodded.
"Hello."
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she stepped aside.
"Come in."
He entered.
The foyer smelled faintly of furniture polish and old wood.
Sunlight fell through the tall windows.
A grand staircase rose toward the second floor.
But several rooms were nearly empty, and dust remained along parts of the molding.
Daniel looked around.
"Hasn't changed much."
Nora smiled faintly.
"Some things have."
He nodded.
She led him into the library.
A tray of coffee waited on a small table.
So did two chairs.
Daniel noticed the careful arrangement.
It reminded him of their meetings at the bridge.
Two people sitting opposite one another, unsure how to begin.
Nora offered him a chair.
He sat.
She remained standing for a moment.
Then took the other.
Neither touched the coffee.
Finally, Daniel looked at her.
"I've got some questions."
She nodded.
"Ask."
He took a breath.
"Did you know who I was the moment you arrived at the garage?"
"Yes."
"Did you know I worked there before you returned to Bellweather?"
"No."
He studied her.
"How did you find the garage?"
"The motorcycle broke down. I was trying to reach the bridge."
He watched her carefully.
She did not look away.
Daniel nodded.
"And the money?"