The Crate in the Parking Lot
Part Twenty-One: Reno
My third daughter stayed for the toast.
She was at the head table, eleven feet from her sister, in the seat she had told me on a sidewalk was a photograph waiting to be taken, and she sat through all four minutes and eleven seconds of it with her hands in her lap.
At 8:40, during the second song, she got her jacket off the back of her chair and left.
She did not say goodbye to Odile, which people noticed, and she did not say goodbye to me, which people did not.
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