Chapter 11

Laura greeted Diana with a warm smile. “I have some tea waiting for you in the kitchen.”

She disappeared around the corner and returned a moment later, carefully balancing a pitcher of tea and a plate of cookies.

“I hope you like oatmeal chocolate chip.”

“Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are perfect,” Diana said, smiling as she snagged two.

They sipped their tea in comfortable silence. Diana glanced around, admiring the objects that gave the house its character. The mantelpiece displayed family photos, moments frozen in time. Among them was a picture of Steve on his wedding day.

“You’re close to Steve,” Diana said, gesturing subtly toward the photo.

“Yes, we’re good friends. His wife—Peggy—was the therapist of one of my best friends. After she died, everyone agreed it wouldn’t be good for him to be alone, so he and his sister Grace moved in together.”

Diana rose and took the wedding photo gently in her hands. Peggy was stunning—her smile bright, her eyes full of life.

“He told me a little about her today,” Diana said quietly.

“Really?” Laura set down her glass, clearly surprised. “He so rarely talks about her. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even begun to process it.”

“I mentioned wanting to volunteer at Equal Opportunity, so...” Diana trailed off.

Laura abruptly stood and began to pace. “You know he’ll never let you, right?”

“From what Principal Livingston said, it’s not really up to Steve.” Diana crossed her arms.

Laura stopped and turned to face her. “Did he tell you everything?”

Diana gently returned the picture to its spot on the mantel. “I don’t think so.”

Laura sat down again and patted the seat beside her. “Steve and Peggy were inseparable. They’d known each other since they were kids. Her death nearly destroyed him.”

Diana nodded. “He blames himself.”

“I know. He’s so stubborn.” Laura shook her head. “Everyone’s told him a thousand times it wasn’t his fault. But he keeps saying that if he’d gone with her that night, she’d still be alive.”

Diana nodded again, a heaviness settling in her chest.

“The man who shot Peggy could’ve turned the gun on both of them. What does Steve think he could’ve done? Wrestled a weapon out of someone’s hands?” Laura’s voice rose slightly, thick with emotion.

Diana’s eyes widened. “She was shot?”

Laura blinked, surprised. “He didn’t tell you that?”

Diana shook her head. “He only said she was attacked and didn’t make it.”

“Two gunshot wounds. The offender was never caught.”

A long silence settled between them. Laura looked away, and several moments passed before she spoke again.

“I think Steve has spent the last two years finding every way imaginable to punish himself.”

“He has to realize he’s not responsible for the actions of a stranger.”

Laura gathered the empty plate. “Sometimes,” she said softly, “it’s easier to cling to guilt than it is to forgive.”

Diana stood and picked up the two tea cups, following Laura into the kitchen.

“Who does he need to forgive?” she asked gently. “The gunman?”

Laura placed the plate in the sink and stared out the window. She pressed her hand to her lips before whispering,

“No. Steve needs to forgive himself.”