“Go ahead,” I said. “Open it.”
Vanessa looked at the box. She looked at me. She looked around at the neighbors. Twenty-five people. All of them watching her.
She couldn’t say no. Not in front of everyone. Not at her own party.
She smiled her stiff smile.
“How sweet,” she said.
She pulled the blue ribbon. It came loose and fell on the tablecloth. She lifted the lid.
On top, wrapped in a clean dish towel, there was the peach pie. With the lattice top. She looked at it. For a second, her face softened. She remembered.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s the pie. The same pie.”
Then she moved the pie to the side.
Underneath it, there was the clear plastic bag.
The notes. The pink one with the heart. The printed text messages. The stale chocolate chip cookies in their ziplock bag. The unopened bottle of wine. The chemistry book in its bookstore bag with the receipt.
