A thin crack now ran from the rim toward the center.
Margaret touched it.
“Oh.”
“I bumped it against the faucet.”
“You were supposed to be careful.”
“I know.”
“You’re nearly fifty years old.”
Claire stared.
“That fact seems unrelated.”
“It is related to judgment.”
Claire laughed.
Then looked worried again.
“Can it be fixed?”
Margaret examined the crack.
“Probably not enough to eat from safely.”
Claire’s face fell.
Margaret noticed.
“It’s a plate.”
Claire looked at her.
“No, it isn’t.”
Margaret knew.
She opened a cabinet and took down a small wooden stand meant for displaying decorative plates.
Charles had bought it years ago.
She set the blue plate on it.
“There.”
Claire watched.
“You’re not upset?”
“I’m upset you hit it on a faucet.”
“I said sorry.”
“But broken things do not have to disappear.”
Claire went still.
Margaret adjusted the stand.
“Sometimes they just stop being used the old way.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
Margaret saw it and sighed.
“Don’t turn that into a lesson.”
“You started it.”
“I was talking about a plate.”
“Of course.”
They left it on the kitchen shelf.
