“Ask.”
“Can we add to it?”
June stopped.
“What?”
He pulled out a piece of fabric.
A dark navy rectangle.
June recognized it.
His suit from university graduation.
She touched it.
“You cut your suit?”
“It doesn’t fit.”
“That suit cost six hundred dollars.”
“Fifteen years ago.”
“Still.”
He smiled.
Then he pulled out another piece.
Cream fabric with small green leaves.
June frowned.
“Claire’s?”
“From a dress her mom made when she was a teenager.”
June looked at him.
“She kept it.”
“Apparently.”
He sat across from her.
“We thought maybe the quilt shouldn’t stop at childhood.”
June stared at the fabric.
Something about the suggestion moved her more than an apology might have.
The original quilt had been June’s version of Ethan.
A boy.
A son.
Someone she had raised.
This was different.
A man offering pieces of the life he chose afterward.
“Claire wants her dress in it?”
“She suggested it.”
June looked skeptical.
“She understands it will become handmade.”
“Shocking, I know.”
June smiled.
Then her expression softened.
