It bore Noah’s name in careful handwriting.
“I sent this after you invited me.”
He took it.
Inside was a copy of a letter she had written six weeks earlier.
She had thanked him for remembering her and promised to attend.
At the bottom, she had written that she would be happy to stay at a small motel rather than disturb the wedding arrangements.
Noah read it twice.
“I never received this.”
Margaret looked surprised.
“The wedding office told me someone would give it to you.”
He felt a chill.
“What wedding office?”
“The one Claire asked me to contact.”
Noah slowly stood.
Two months earlier, he had written a personal invitation to his mother.
He had spent nearly an hour composing it.
For years, their relationship had consisted of increasingly brief telephone calls and birthday cards.
He knew he had hurt her.
He also knew he was afraid of discovering whether their distance had become permanent.
The invitation was his first real attempt to close that distance.
Claire had offered to arrange everything afterward.
She promised to send Margaret a train ticket, book a comfortable room, and make sure someone collected her from the station.
Three weeks later, Claire told him Margaret had declined.
“She says big weddings make her uncomfortable,” Claire had explained. “She doesn’t want everyone staring at her.”
Noah had believed her.
Because it was easier than making a difficult phone call.
Now he looked at his mother.
“Did Claire tell you not to come?”
Margaret’s face changed.
She hesitated.
