The botanical gardens, late afternoon light, two hundred guests. At the end of that aisle Diane had turned to look at him just before they started walking — really looked at him, directly, without the usual distance — and for one moment she’d looked like a young girl who needed someone to lean on.
He held onto that moment all the way home. Replayed it in the quiet of his empty house and felt, for the first time in as long as he could remember, that he’d done something right. That Claire would have been pleased. That the promise had been kept. Marcus Webb came by the following afternoon.