Julia

Margaret met me as I entered Van’s and my suite. Her smile grew. “I’m so glad you’re feeling okay.”

“I’m glad we all are.” My expression soured. “I’m sorry.” I’d told Margaret the same thing on the phone. This was the first time I’d seen her in person, since arriving home.

“I feel responsible,” she said. “I was the one who saw the champagne—who brought it up here.”

“Everything is ...