Chapter 15: Envelope

Dacey didn't blink.

"Who told you that, baby?" she said.

"A friend saw you in the Covington Cycle truck. With a woman."

"That's Holt's girlfriend. Her name's Joni."

Across the table, Cass put both hands over her mouth.

"Joni," Brent repeated, very lightly. "From the post."

"Is that her? I didn't know. Holt doesn't tell me anything."

"Stay away from her, Dace. She's not well."

"I'll try." Dacey rolled her eyes at us, and her voice stayed sweet. "She's in the kitchen with a pie. I'll keep her away from your stuff."

"That's my girl. Wear the blue dress Saturday."

"I will."

"Love you."

"Love you more," Dacey said, and ended the call, and put her phone face down on the table.

Her hand was shaking so hard the fork rattled beside it.

"Say something," she said.

"That," Cass said, "was criminal."

"I've been practicing for three months."

Nobody laughed, but Holt reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and she let him.

Thanksgiving morning came up gray and cold.

I walked Bear at six with Holt, as always, and the river path was white with frost that crunched under every step.

Holt went back to the truck for the coffee, and Bear and I sat down on the bench by the water.

Brent's white pickup pulled into the trailhead lot without its headlights.

I knew the engine before I saw the truck.

He walked down the path with his hands in his coat pockets and a plain white envelope sticking out of one.

"Morning, babe."

"Don't call me that."

"Joni." He sat down on the far end of the bench. "I want to help you."

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