style="font-size:15px;"> “Actually, yeah, I think things are better. And I have you to thank for it.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“I tried what you suggested, talked to him about what was going on with me.”
“And it worked?”
He shrugged. “He didn’t respond in kind. Then again, he didn’t stomp away and slam a door on me, either. I call that progress.”
“It’s a start.”
The dull bleat of a cell phone came from Beth’s purse, which was hanging from a hook in the tiny foyer, near the door. She crossed the living room, dug it out and answered.
“Hey, Beth? It’s me. Is everything okay there?”
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