Chapter 6: What Daphne Gave Me

On Tuesday I went to the harbor market to buy food, because Ben's refrigerator held beer, mustard and half a lemon.

He had left forty dollars on the counter with a note.

Eggs, bread, anything you want. Don't buy the crabs. They bite.

I bought the crabs.

I was standing at the fish stall, trying to remember how to pick out a good one, when somebody said my name.

"Willa?"

I turned around with a crab in my hand.

Daphne stood behind me in a pale green dress with a canvas bag over her shoulder, and her whole face lit up.

"I thought it was you! I almost didn't dare say hello."

My stomach dropped.

Then she put her hand on my arm, and her fingers were warm.

"Please don't leave," she said. "Ten minutes. I owe you an apology, and I'd like to give it to your face."

I should have left.

But she was the only person from that room who had spoken to me kindly, and I was tired of being hated.

We sat at a table outside the coffee stand with the gulls working the pavement.

She had already ordered for me. A black coffee, no sugar, the way the prison had made it.

I didn't think about that.

"I was in Paris when it happened," Daphne said. "Carter told me you'd left him. I found out about the plea the same week you were released."

"Did you?"

"I wanted to stop the toast. I tried. His father wouldn't hear me." Her eyes filled. "I'm so sorry, Willa. I've been sick about it."

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