And then the incident was over and the only sounds were those of the commercial refrigerators humming and the fountain drink regulators hissing, and no one said anything, even when Tess burst back into the room and said, breathlessly, “Jesus, what’s going on?”
“In Bumfuck, Arizona?” said Kate acidly. “Nothing. Kate is leaving, that’s what’s going on. Ta-ta. Let me know when it’s time for the reunion.”
And yet this time she was answered, and by an unexpected voice, a voice as strong and confident as any thirty-four-year-old. A voice which belonged to the old-young man himself, Henry Becker.
“You want to leave, young lady? Go right ahead,” he said, approaching her, each step small, cautious, carefully considered. “But know this. Denial has its limits. And in this case, that limit is exac
