“Have you decided what to do about her?” I asked gently.

Caroline touched the corner of the blue envelope with her index finger.

“I wrote her back,” she said.

“You did?”

“Yes. I told her I would meet her for coffee. In a public place. For thirty minutes.”

We chose a small bakery on Caroline Street in downtown Fredericksburg.

The morning was cool, with a light breeze coming off the river that smelled of damp earth and fallen leaves.

I sat in my car parked across the street, watching the bakery entrance through the windshield.

Caroline had insisted on going inside alone.

Through the large front window of the shop, I could see them sitting at a small corner table.

Rebecca was wearing a simple grey dress, her hair pulled back tightly in a silver clip.

She looked nervous, her hands moving constantly around her coffee mug as she spoke.

Caroline sat perfectly still, her posture straight, her left arm resting flat on the wooden table.

I watched as Rebecca pushed a small, velvet jewelry box across the table.

Caroline did not open it.