Nine
“I DON’T LIKE HIM, TOM.”
I look over my coffee cup at Anna. It’s a little before 7 a.m., and I’m not really prepared for her whispered declaration.
“Oh, Anna,” I admonish weakly.
“The things he said about Helen. The condescending way he spoke to her. What he said about you two getting married.”
“That’s not anything different than I’ve heard from other people.”
“Maybe so,” she says, pulling down another cup from the cupboard. “But for someone engaged in the kind of work he is, he has a strange way with people.”
I shrug. “He admitted he was set in his ways. This is a big change.”
“I guess I’m a little defensive because I know how much you two struggled. I know the gossiping and the whispering and the sheer nastiness of some people that Helen was subjected to. I know what she cho
