“She went ahead with the tribute.”
I nodded.
Of course she had.
I didn’t know whether she’d acknowledged our absence or ignored it.
I didn’t particularly want to know.
Grandma reached across the table and touched my hand.
“Your father loved that photograph.”
“I know.”
She smiled sadly.
“He kept a copy on his desk until he died.”
I swallowed.
“Vanessa chose it.”
Grandma looked toward the courtyard.
“She remembers the good days too, then.”
I stared at my tea.
“Yes,” I said.
“That may be part of why this is so difficult.”
Vanessa came downstairs just before nine.
I saw her through the restaurant’s glass wall.
She was still wearing her ivory wedding gown, though the bustle had come loose and she was carrying the train over one arm.
Her makeup was flawless.
Her expression wasn’t.
She stopped at our table.
“Can we talk?”
Grandma looked up.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Hi, Grandma.”
Patricia placed her napkin beside her plate.
“I think Clara should decide.”
