He smiled grandly; she could feel the radiance of his approval from across the wedding table. Ownership seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a daughter’s upbringing. Teenagers buzzed about her newly discovered talent for the violin in the same sentences as they gossiped about her torrid police scandal and a lost mother who remained in the deep shadows of murder mystery. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. They were delighted. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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