For the next several days, Diane and Malcolm were practically inseparable.
They toured a lighthouse.
Took a sunset cruise.
Had lunch in Beaufort.
He convinced her to rent bicycles even though Diane had repeatedly declared that bicycles after age fifty were “an orthopedic surgeon’s marketing strategy.”
She sent me a picture of herself wearing a ridiculous helmet and laughing so hard her eyes were closed.
I hadn’t seen that version of her since Robert died.
Ethan saw it too.
He also saw every possible danger.
“Do we know if Malcolm is divorced?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he have kids?”
“Two daughters.”
“Where does he live?”
“North Carolina.”
“What did he do for work?”
“Commercial insurance. Retired.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I asked your mother normal questions instead of interrogating her.”
He sighed.
“I’m worried.”
“I know.”
“She’s lonely.”
“I know.”
