Heat glows in my veins as, over another bottle of Pinot, I listen to Kay’s story of how her father wooed her mother. I remember Mr. Brody from when I came to West Waters as a child, how his eyes always glinted when he spoke of his wife. Unflinching pride and endless respect. Not something very common in my own family’s house, not now and not then.
“After Mom died, he just faded away.” Kay’s voice breaks a little. “I don’t believe in it medically, but I truly think he died of a broken heart. I witnessed it with my own eyes. Saw the straightness seep from his gait, the light leave his eyes. He didn’t speak with the same voice after she was gone. And as much as it hurt me to see him like that, I knew it wasn’t weakness. It was love. He simply couldn’t live without her.”
She fixes her moist
