Tears stood in her eyes, and she did not let them fall.
“Emily,” I said.
“I’m going to listen to all of it, however long it takes—”
Headlights swept across the porch.
They came off the county road in a long white arc and filled the yard.
A black SUV rolled up and stopped at the gravel’s edge, engine running.
For a moment, nobody breathed.
Then a car door opened.
I heard heels on the gravel, slow and unhurried, the sound of a woman who had never once been late to her own victory.
PART 3
The headlights stayed on, pinning us against the porch like moths.
Ashley stepped into the glare in a cream trench coat, the caramel Birkin on her forearm, the Rolex I had given her at Christmas flashing under the porch light.
Behind her came two men in dark suits.
One was gray-haired, with a leather folder under his arm.
