“He just tellin you what you wanna hear,” her mother said one night, handing her a wet plate. “That man don’t know where Stella is any more than you do.” Desiree sighed, reaching for the dish rag. “But he knows how to look,” she said. “Why shouldn’t we try?” “She don’t want to be found. You gotta let her go. Live her life.” “This ain’t her life!” Desiree said. “None of it woulda happened if I didn’t tell her to take that job. Or drag her to New Orleans, period. That city wasn’t no good for Stella. You was right all along.” Her mother pursed her lips. “It wasn’t her first time,” she said.
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