Chapter 8
At one end of Darlene’s front porch two guys were arguing football in a haze of Marlboro Lights, so Paul and I waited at the upwind end for Emily to bundle Chloe in her pink bunny snowsuit. My farewells to our host and hostess had been far from satisfactory. A tepid smile and a limp hand from Darlene and from Dad, a boozy kiss that went wide of the mark — my cheek — and landed squarely on my ear. I filled my lungs with the cool night air, heavily scented with the dusky smell of wood smoke that was curling from a hundred nearby chimneys. I’d had a bit more to drink than was good for me and was counting on the night air to clear out the cobwebs. I wondered how my sisters, especially Ruth, would react to the news of Daddy’s impromptu wedding. Perhaps I’d send each of them an e-mail
