Sunsets by Robin Jones Gunn

travel agent Rosie told me about.”
    Alissa was surprised at first, but then, with only thirty or so guests, she was probably the only one Meg didn’t know. “Yes, I’m Alissa.” She extended her hand, and Meg took it firmly in hers for a friendly handshake.
    “I’m Brad,” the sudden shadow said. Alissa had hoped he would find someone else to torture. He nodded at Meg and sat next to Alissa.
    Alissa decided to try the technique that had worked so well on boys like Brad in junior high. She ignored him.
    “I’ve heard Rosie speak of you, too,” Alissa said, crossing her legs and focusing on Meg. “She told me you wrote a letter to Chet letting him know where he could find Rosie after he came home from the war.”
    “Oh, yes,” Meg chuckled. “And a lot of good that did. You do know what happened when he showed up on her doorstep in Houston, don’t you?”
    “No,” Alissa said, leaning forward. She couldn’t wait to hear this.
    “They hadn’t paid the electric bill.” Meg popped a grape in her mouth.
    Alissa waited.
    Meg made small circular motions with her free hand. “That’s why Rosie had all the candles lit in the living room. It was a hot summer night, and the front window and curtains were open. Joe had been asleep on the couch when Rosie came in the front room to check on him, to see if he was sober enough to eat some dinner.” She dropped another grape in her mouth and made Alissa wait for the rest of the story.
    “Joe got up from the couch and was furious at her for waking him. He lunged at her but was too stupefied to do anything other than fall on her. She held him up and helped him back to the couch where he tumbled down, taking Rosie with him.”
    Alissa had a difficult time understanding where all this was leading. “What about Chet?”
    “Chet saw the whole thing from the taxi parked out front. In the dim light, it looked to him as if they were dancing by candlelight and joined in a romantic embrace on their way to the couch. He told the cab driver to take him back to the train station. That night he took the first train out of there, which happened to be going to Mexico City.”
    “You can’t be serious!” Alissa said. “Didn’t he ever call her?”
    “No. He thought she was in a loving, thriving marriage. Chet was a gentleman. He wasn’t about to break that up.”
    “So did he settle in Mexico City?” Brad asked. “His Spanish is good.”
    Alissa glanced over her shoulder and gave him a “go away” look.
    Brad pulled away at her glare and said, “He ordered his milk shake in Spanish, okay?”
    “He didn’t stay in Mexico City,” Meg explained. “He ended up in Brazil on an American civil service project. He built bridges or something. The money was good, and it seemed the only cure for his broken heart. Of course, Rosie was the one who needed a cure by this time. I begged her to come to California and live with Fred and me. I was afraid Joe was going to permanently hurt Rosie. And he finally did, you know.”
    Alissa shook her head. “What happened?”
    “Her left arm,” Meg said, raising her corresponding arm. “He broke it at the elbow, permanently damaging the nerves. Six months after the cast was off, she wrote to tell me her fingers on her left hand were going numb. I told her it was because of Joe. She wouldn’t believe it. And she wouldn’t leave him.”
    Brad jumped in and asked, “Why not?”
    “Things were different then. A promise was a promise. For better, for worse, you know. She stayed with him till the day he died.”
    Alissa shook her head. “How long ago was that?”
    “Oh, nearly thirty-five years ago by my guess.” Meg picked up a dainty triangle sandwich and put the whole thing in her mouth. “That’s when she finally came to California. She cleaned house for my cousin, Walter. He owned a huge orange grove in Redlands and had a big hacienda to go with it. Walter’s wife, Angelina, died when their fifth child was born, so Rosie took