“Doing what?”
“Administrative work at a medical clinic.”
I raised my eyebrows.
She gave a sad laugh.
“I know.
Me.
Nine to five.
Answering phones and scheduling appointments.”
“There’s dignity in honest work.”
She nodded.
“I’m learning that.”
We sat quietly.
Then she reached into her bag.
My body tensed automatically.
But she removed only an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Thomas stood on our old front porch holding a birthday cake.
I was beside him, laughing.
Jared stood behind us.
The picture had been taken five years earlier.
Vanessa had been behind the camera.
“I found it when I was moving,” she said.
“I thought you should have it.”
I stared at Thomas’s face.
His beautiful smile.
His familiar hands.
For a moment, grief came rushing back.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Vanessa stood.
“I won’t ask you to forgive me.”
I looked up.
“I appreciate that.”
