Chapter 7 - Six Weeks
The next morning I found Walter at our usual coffee place, staring down into his cup like it might say something useful.
He stood up when he saw me. "You're leaving."
"Today."
He nodded and swallowed. "Then I won't make it harder than it already is."
"Sit down, Walter."
He sat.
I set a folded piece of paper on the table between us. He opened it. My home address was written inside, along with a date six weeks out.
"Sunday lunch," I said. "My kids and grandkids will all be there."
He looked up at me. "You're inviting me to your house."
"I'm giving you one chance to show up honestly. No dead husband in the story. If you still want to know me when David isn't the reason you're standing on my porch — come."
"Are you sure about this?"
"No." This time I did smile, a little. "That's why lunch is six weeks away and not tomorrow."
I flew home that afternoon.
For those six weeks, we kept it small on purpose. A few phone calls. A handful of texts. No promises. No talk about fate or destiny. No wondering out loud what David would have wanted.
For the first time, I was getting to know Walter without my husband standing invisibly in the room between us.
My children knew someone was coming to lunch. They didn't know who.
Claire tried to interrogate me while she chopped carrots.
"Is this a romantic thing?"
"Possibly."
"Is he normal?"
May you like
"Define normal."
She groaned. "Mom. You are enjoying this way too much."
