My Son Said I’d Be Taking The Bus—Until I Opened The Glovebox

listening to.

When the tears stopped, I called Margaret.

Margaret Holloway had been Rob’s friend since college. She was a family law attorney, sharp as a scalpel, with silver hair she wore in a neat bun and a voice that could either comfort you or cut you down depending on what the moment required.

She’d been at the funeral. She’d hugged me, told me to continue reading …