Oliver pointed toward the sky.
“She doesn’t live in our house anymore. But Daddy says love doesn’t stop when someone dies.”
Hannah blinked back tears.
“Your daddy is right.”
Alexander approached them.
He looked different from the man she had met in the hotel dining room.
The expensive suit was still there.
But the distant expression was gone.
He smiled more easily now.
And when Oliver reached for his hand, Alexander took it without hesitation.
“We have something to show you,” Alexander said.
He led Hannah toward a quiet hallway overlooking the garden.
At its center hung a large portrait of Elizabeth.
Beneath the photograph was a small display containing letters, drawings, and memories contributed by families she had helped.
Hannah stopped walking.
Her face went completely pale.
Alexander noticed.
“Hannah?”
She stepped closer to the portrait.
For several seconds, she could not speak.
Then she reached into her handbag.
Her fingers trembled as she opened a worn leather wallet.
Inside was a small, folded piece of paper.
The edges were soft from years of handling.
She unfolded it carefully.
Alexander watched her read the faded handwriting.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Hannah, what’s wrong?”
She turned toward him.
“I never told you how I knew what to say to Oliver.”
