I tapped Michael's letter.
“And why didn't anyone answer you?”
I gathered the photographs into a folder.
Tonight, I'd have Mom and Michael in the same room. Maybe then someone would finally explain what was going on.
There's something about my childhood.
***
That afternoon, Mom found me cooking.
“Something smells wonderful. What's the occasion?”
“We're having company.”
Her face brightened. “Really? Oh, Claire, we haven't had anyone over since your father died!”
“I thought it was time.”
Someone would finally explain.
“Who's coming?”
“It's a surprise.”
“A surprise? At my age?”
I laughed. “You'll be fine, Mom.”
“Well, at least tell me what to wear.”
It was time.
“Your blue blouse. You always look lovely in it.”
She smiled. “Now you've got me curious.”
Good.
Because I had a feeling curiosity wouldn't be the only emotion at our dinner table that night.
A surprise?
***
At six, the doorbell rang.
“Claire, sweetheart, would you answer?”
