Chapter Nineteen
French wine, American blues.
Without thinking I moved my hand on top of Elizabeth’s and eased the bottle back down to the counter, to prevent her pouring the third glass. I was the last person on the planet with room to judge another’s means of coping, but it was not even noon. Although I couldn’t yet give the widow and grieving mother closure, for the moment I still felt obligated to save her from herself.
She smiled and nodded. “I … I’m sorry. I forget myself. Bad habits I suppose.”
“No, look … I mean it’s your choice, but trust me when I say, the booze won’t fix things.”
Elizabeth looked up at me with a small smile, an odd expression fell across her face. “You’re a smart man Thomas Blume, anyone ever tell you that?”
I started talking in an effort to prevent the mo
