Chapter Twenty-One
AS HE DRESSED for his night out—blue jeans and a dark red flannel shirt—he thought again about how formal Jacqui always seemed. Nothing she did was casual. Her office was big on titles and last names, she kept her napkin smoothed over her lap as she ate, and she was always dressed immaculately, without even a stray hair out of place. He bet she even wore shoes throughout her house up until the time she went to bed. He chuckled a little as he pictured her watching television, eating popcorn with her pinkie finger up in the air, her high-heeled feet side by side on the floor as she sat there with perfect posture.
And then it wasn’t funny anymore. It was sad. Surely, she hadn’t always been that way. Was it all a part of her penance?
He scooped up his keys, locking his ap
