Reston, Virginia

Emma tossed a kernel of popcorn to Harvey. One for her, one for Harvey. The two of them sat on the living-room floor, surrounded by the newest editions of Emma’s favorite magazines.

In Bride was the article “Pretty in Pink,” saluting Breast Cancer Awareness Month. She still couldn’t believe her mother was wearing a pink wedding dress.

Okay, so it was kinda cool, but it was hard to imagine anything other than a white wedding dress. In fact, if it wasn’t for this article and a couple of others, Emma would have thought her mother—who was the ultimate slave to fashion—had made up the whole “pink wedding dress” thing. Even so, get real, who’s that politically correct that they’d use their wedding as some social statement?

No, Emma guessed that being in the advertising business her mother probably saw the whole “pink thing” as a way to avoid white. Her mother was very big into subliminal messages. You are what people think you are. That was a favorite line her mother used. It totally worked for her. Besides, she’d already done the white-dress thing with Emma’s dad. No sense in reminding people, and at the same time, why not pretend that she cared about breast cancer?

Emma was very certain that when it came her turn, she would definitely choose white. Not like it was something she needed to worry about right this minute. How could she have time for boys when her dad kept nagging her about college applications and scholarship stuff and keeping her grades up. All Emma really cared about were the gorgeous sling-back shoes that matched her bridesmaid’s dress. Even if pink wasn’t quite her color she knew she looked hot in those shoes.

She glanced at the other magazines spread around her, all of them flipped open to must-read articles. In Cosmo was “The Four Things He Doesn’t Dare Tell You.” Entertainment Weekly had something about Project Runway. The TV show The Office was on the cover. J Lo was all aglow in People. Exciting stuff and yet Emma chose to stick with the packet of love letters.

September 16, 1982

Dear Liney,

It was so good to see you. I wish you were still here. I can’t believe how much I miss you.

J.B. is still going on and on about the grape jelly beans you bought him. He’s just jealous. He knows he’ll never be like me and get someone like you. You know, it’s funny I can’t even remember knowing, let alone mentioning to you that grape was his favorite flavor, but you’re amazing.

So are you wearing the T-shirt I gave you? I knew you’d love it. It about killed me to not give it to you this summer. I bought it the day we went to the Art Institute. Do you remember how I didn’t even want to go? Vatican art? Who cares? Remember? But you made that whole day such an adventure I wanted to repay the favor. I’m big on that, you know. I always repay favors. And it was easy to sneak off and buy it when you were standing there mesmerized. Actually, it was when you were looking at the one by that Caravaggio dude, Deposition from the Cross. See, I remember. I’ve been telling you, I’m a details guy.

Also, I wanted to apologize again for leaving you right when the pizza got there. Even if it was just an hour. My sister’s such a moron. I can’t believe she had to pick Saturday night to call me. She’s been trying to guilt me into coming home. Like I told you, that’s not my home anymore. I know you said it wasn’t a big deal and I know you’re not mad or anything. Sometimes I wish my family would just disappear, you know?

Emma heard a car door slam and started folding and tucking the letters safely away. She rolled her discarded sweatshirt around the packet and grabbed the People magazine just as her dad came in the front door.