It’s been a year now.
The neighbors talked, of course. For a while. Mrs. Pratt told everyone at church. The young couple at the end of the street posted something on the neighborhood Facebook group about “drama on Willowbrook Lane” and got forty comments.
But then something happened I didn’t expect.
They stopped talking about Vanessa. And started talking about the pie.
Mrs. Kowalski told me at the mailbox a few weeks later. “I’ve been married sixty-one years,” she said. “I’ve seen a lot of women go after a lot of other women over a lot of men. I’ve never once seen one bring a pie.” She patted my hand. “You taught everybody on this street something, Janet. Even the men.”
Vanessa started seeing a therapist the week after the barbecue. A woman downtown who specializes in divorce. She goes every Tuesday. She says it helps. She says she’s learning to be angry at the right people.
