But there was one person I still needed to speak to.
Karen.
And I had no idea whether she would welcome me back.
The Woman Behind the Red Door
The following Saturday, I stood outside Second Chapter for nearly ten minutes before I finally gathered the courage to enter.
The little bell above the door chimed.
The bookstore smelled of fresh coffee, old paper, and polished wood.
A young woman behind the counter looked up and smiled.
“Welcome to Second Chapter. Can I help you find anything?”
I glanced toward the back of the shop.
Karen stood beside a shelf of novels, talking to an elderly customer.
She wore a cream-colored sweater, dark jeans, and the kind of relaxed expression I had rarely seen during the years she had been married to Michael.
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she excused herself from the customer and walked toward me.
