Page 42 of Letters From Victor

“So what?”

“Don’t play coy with me. How did it go?”

I hesitated, glancing around Edith’s front porch. “Let’s go inside.”

Edith nodded and ushered me in, closing the door behind us. She led me to the living room where Frankie was playing with wooden blocks on a lime-green-and-yellow crocheted rug.

“Hi, sweetie,” I cooed, bending down to ruffle his soft blond hair.

He beamed up at me, proudly showing off the tower he had built. “Look, Mama!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” I kissed his forehead. “My little architect.”

He smashed the tower with a firetruck. His eyes lit up at the destruction, and he set about stacking the blocks anew.

Edith settled onto the sofa, patting the spot beside her. “All right, spill. I want all the juicy details.”

I sank down next to her with a heavy sigh, a dreamy smile tugging at my lips as memories of the past hours washed over me. “He’s everything I imagined,” I said, soft and reminiscent. “Passionate, tender, and utterly sure of himself. When I’m with him, Edith…it’s like he sees straight into my soul. Like he knows every secret desire I’ve ever had. He’s unlocked a part of me that I didn’t even know existed.”

“He’s that good, huh?”

“Earth-shattering.”

Edith raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of skepticism and concern. “And you’re sure this is what you want? To risk everything for a fling?”

I bit my lip, the reality of her question sinking in. “It’s not just a fling, Edith.”

“Then what?”

I looked away, my eyes wandering to the framed photographs on Edith’s mantel—pictures of her and her late husband, of our family, of her adventures in exotic locales. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “But when I’m with him, it feels real. It feels like…love.”

She sighed, uncrossed her arms, and leaned forward, her expression softening. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, sis. Remember when you thought marrying Frank was the solutionto everything? That it would make you happy and fulfilled?” She held up her hands before I could retort. “You made the twenty-one-year-old marriage just like I did. Anything to get out of Mother’s shadow. Believe me, I get it. But you rushed into that, and look where you are.” She paused and looked at me poignantly. “And now you’re rushing into this with Victor.”

“It’s different,” I insisted.

“I’m sure it is.”

Edith’s telephone rang. “Hold that thought,” she said over her shoulder as she stood and walked to the kitchen. “Hello?”

I turned my attention back to Frankie, watching him drive his wooden cars around the rug like a racetrack.

Edith returned to the living room, stretching the phone cord as she walked. “Barbara, it’s Frank.”

I stepped forward, but she cut me off with a raised hand.

“He wants to know if you’re still here,” she whispered, cupping her palm over the mouthpiece.

“Tell him—” I started, then caught myself. “Tell him yes.”

Edith shrugged and uncovered the mouthpiece. “She’s still here, Frank.”

I turned to leave, but Edith motioned for me to stay. She winked at me. I froze.

“And she and Frankie are staying for dinner.”

“Edie,” I whispered urgently, but she waved me off.

“Frank,” she said, her voice thick with syrupy sweetness. “You’re a big, strong man. You can handle dinner on your own for one night. Surely you can make a sandwich without Barbara’s help.”

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