Maggie felt her lips press into a taut line before she leaned forward. “Then what do you call turning in a man he swore was his best friend? He knew what would happen to Roger. He had to. And he still did it.”
“Artie was a man of integrity,” Jo Ellen said. “He believed it was the right thing to do when he learned Roger broke the law. He was laundering money and defrauding investors. You didn’t know, Maggie. But Artie did. And he couldn’t just… let it slide.”
Maggie scoffed. “Ah, the great, noble whistleblower. Or could it have been he was just jealous because he was a college professor and Roger owned a thriving architectural firm?”
Jo Ellen gave a soft laugh. “As if Artie cared about money. He loved his job, his family, and any time he got to fish. But you have to know that Artie loved Roger, too. That’s why I want to understand what changed, and why he did this. I want to figure out why they both ordered us to stop being friends. And, for heaven’s sake, I want you to stop demonizing my perfect husband.”
“A perfect husband?” Maggie gave a wry smile. “I believe they call that a unicorn.”
Jo Ellen started to laugh, then stopped, as if she realized they weren’t supposed to laugh together anymore.
As if any kind of lightheartedness fell under that umbrella order each of their husbands had delivered:Don’t talk to each other ever again.
“Okay, not perfect,” Jo Ellen conceded. “He snored. And had a weakness for donuts and dumb jokes. Oh, and toward the end, all he ever did was watch the news and that got annoying.”
Maggie shot her a look. “That’s the worst thing he did?” She wished she could say that about her husband who…well, yes, willingly broke the law. “At least you had him twenty-nine years longer than I had Roger.”
Jo Ellen exhaled, quiet as if Maggie had effectively put her in her place. Finally, she lifted her coffee, but plunked it back down as if she knew it would be cold and bitter.
“Can I ask you a question, Mags?”
Maggie braced for something harsh and personal and annoying.
“Why are we really here?”
“I thought we agreed that together we had a better chance of finding out the whole story.”
“But who are we doing it for?” Jo Ellen leaned closer. “For us? Please—we’re both seventy-eight. Our days are dwindling, our lives are lived. Our families are what matter now.”
“I just enjoyed a month in Europe,” Maggie replied. “My days are certainly notdwindling.”
“But we’re here for them.” Jo Ellen pointed to the house. “For our kids and grandkids.”
“I gave mine a multimillion-dollar house to keep or sell,” Maggie said dryly. “I’ve done enough for my kids.”
“Well, I haven’t,” Jo Ellen said. “And the reason I’m here is because my Katie’s eyes sparkle when she talks about Eli.”
Oh, this again. “She’s had a crush on Eli since she was twelve, Jo. That’s no reason?—”
“This is different,” Jo Ellen said. “This is adult and real and I want her to be happy. And Eli can’t stop smiling when she’s in the room. Did you notice before they left?”
“Yes.” She looked skyward. “Kind of hard not to.”
Jo Ellen chuckled. “You don’t have to make that face that looks like you sucked on a lemon. We used to joke about our kids getting married.”
“Tessaand Eli,” Maggie reminded her, losing the fight not to smile. “But Kate? No, I didn’t see that coming.”
Jo Ellen reached out her hand across the table again, her touch feather-light—but it still burned. “That’s why I’m doing this. One of the reasons, anyway.”
Maggie eyed her. “What are the other reasons?”
“Well, I want his name cleared. You want to be angry at me forever? Fine. But Artie deserved better than to have you hate him in death for something he might not have even done the way you think he did.”
Maggie swallowed, her throat tight, but before she could respond, Jo Ellen added pressure and continued in a whisper, “And I would like the break in these two families to heal. Wouldn’t you?”
Maggie looked down at Jo Ellen’s hand, counting a few age spots, seeing the older woman’s slightly protruding knuckles tighten over hers.
Something slipped in her heart. A feeling she didn’t know or like or even remember. That longing for…more. More laughter, more wine, more adventures, more gossip, more secrets and confidences and ways to figure out life.
