THE EMAIL I SENT BEFORE DESSERT

the color of the napkins. Michael was looking at his father like he’d never seen him before.

“Who’s Diane,” I said. Not a question. I was past questions.

What Was in the Email

I’ll back up. Because the email mattered, and Janet built it with me over three pots of tea and a legal pad gone soft at the edges.

It wasn’t a confrontation. Janet hates confrontations continue reading …