She missed Rhett’s essence, his voice, and the lovemaking—she missed the lovemaking most. Robert was his answer, his special messenger. He would come. She knew it now, for sure. Anticipation built. Her eyes glowed, as did her skin, while happiness zinged around her like electricity from a live wire. Second and third glances followed her everywhere she went. She was not their old Carrie; there was a palpable difference. That evening he appeared. The doorbell rang and her granddad answered. He looked up at the tall, handsome, well-dressed stranger. “You’ll be here to see Carrie, I’ll wager.” The nervous man, clutching an armful of long-stemmed red roses enclosing a single white bloom in their midst, nodded. “You’d win,” he said. He stepped into the hall as the old man waved him in. He moved gracefully for his size. His suit, his grooming, his whole appearance shouted money and power. Carrie had heard the doorbell. She flew down the stairs right into his open arms. The old man discreetly backed into the kitchen and winked at his wife as he closed the door.
