Dear Rita,
I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know about Sal. Irene sent me a letter notifying me. There are no words I can give you to comfort you over these many miles. I know that the place you need to be is deep inside your heart where Sal still lives.
You can dance with him there. And that’s what you are doing, right? My darling Garden Witch, you are dancing in your heart with your husband and he is home with you in that house. I know a thing or two about ghosts.
Here is my only request, dear friend.
You close those curtains. You dance with Sal. Make your peace and let him know how much you love him. Don’t let anyone tempt you out into the world until you are ready to be there. Okay?
When my father died I saw him in the garden the next day. In our house in Connecticut. He liked it best there. It’s the biggest and the finest.
I saw him clear as day smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper.
I told my mother and her eyes got wide. She didn’t reprimand me or even tell me she didn’t believe me. You know what she did? She ran straight through the servants’ kitchen into the back gardens calling his name. She called him by our last name. “Mr. Astor! Mr. Astor!” she shouted.
She needed to spend more time with him. Their love was untouchable. It never let me in. But it was glorious to watch.
You stay with Sal.
I’ll write soon. And I’m here. You know I’m here.
Love,
Glory