Danielle's wedding was in a small stone church an hour from the university, and the November sky was gray and low and the trees along the road were bare. Blair drove. I sat in the passenger seat with the program in my lap and the heater on and neither of us pretending to be interested in the radio.
She had on the pearl earrings. Gold posts. Small and bright against her hair. She had brought them back in September in a small velvet box and set them on my kitchen counter, and I had looked at them for a week and then put them in her mailbox with a note that said they were always going to be yours, and she had never mentioned it and never given them back, and now she was wearing them to a wedding, which I took to mean she had accepted my terms.
Danielle met us in the vestibule. She was weari
