no?”
I thought about Dad closing the door in Laura’s face in 1992.
Then I thought about Laura spending the following thirty-four years allowing that one closed door to speak for me.
“No.”
Dolly waited.
“Tell her I know what Dad did. I know why she originally left. And I also know she had many years when she could have reached out to me herself.”
Dolly nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
This time, I took the paper.
Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m not calling her.”
“Then why take the number?”
“Because I’m
