Pamela turned and saw me, and smiled, and then she saw over my shoulder that I was alone and that I was not walking toward the arbor, and the smile stayed on her face for about a second longer than it had any business staying.

“Chris? What’s—”

“I need a minute.”

“We’re about to—”

“I need a minute, Pamela.”

Delia said, “I’ll give you two a moment,” and took the photographer by the elbow, and the two of them went down the steps, and I have always been grateful to that woman for how fast she read the room.