Ch. 9: Rules of the Game

Rain traced long silver lines down the window, and somewhere a clock counted the hours.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Emily said. "I'm asking you to listen." She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Emily said. "I'm asking you to listen." The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Emily said. "I'm asking you to listen."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Emily said. "I'm asking you to listen." She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

The truth, when it finally came, was smaller and sharper than she had imagined.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. Emily crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to.

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

The door closed softly, but the sound of it stayed with her for a long time.