PART 1
Sophie’s hands were shaking when she placed Daniel’s briefcase on the dining table.
My mother stared at it.
I stared at Sophie.
The chocolate pie sat untouched beside us.
One candle was still burning near the center of the table.
Mom finally whispered.
“What happened?”
Sophie wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
“I followed him.”
My stomach tightened.
“You followed Daniel?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because he lied again.”
Mom immediately became defensive.
“Sophie.”
“No, Grandma.”
“He did.”
Her voice cracked.
“He said he had to go north.”
“But he drove south.”
Mom looked at me.
I could see embarrassment arriving before fear.
That hurt.
She was seventy-two years old.
She had spent eleven years alone after my father died.
Daniel had made her feel wanted again.
Now her granddaughter was standing in front of her with his briefcase.
And none of us knew what was inside.
Mom looked at Sophie.
“Where is Daniel?”
She swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I saw him go inside.”
“Inside where?”
Sophie looked at me.
Then back at Mom.
“A care facility.”
The room went quiet.
Not a hotel.
Not another woman’s house.
A care facility.
Mom frowned.
“What kind of care facility?”
Sophie took a breath.
“It said Willow Creek Memory Center.”
Mom’s hand moved toward her mouth.
Memory center.
I knew exactly what that meant.
Daniel had been leaving every Sunday night to visit someone with dementia.
But that did not explain the briefcase.
It did not explain the lies.
And it certainly did not explain why Sophie was crying.
I looked at her.
“What did you see?”
She pointed toward the briefcase.
“Open it.”
Mom hesitated.
Then slowly lifted the lid.
Inside were several folders.
A bottle of expensive men’s cologne.
Two small photo albums.
A stack of handwritten letters tied with a blue ribbon.
A pill organizer.
A woman’s silk scarf.
And one framed photograph.
Mom picked it up.
Then froze.
The photograph showed Daniel standing beside a woman.
She looked about his age.
Maybe slightly younger.
Her arm was linked through his.
They were standing in front of a Christmas tree.
The woman was smiling.
Daniel was kissing her temple.
Mom stared.
Then whispered.
“Who is she?”
Sophie started crying again.
“That’s who I saw.”
Mom looked up.
“What?”
“At Willow Creek.”
“She was sitting in the lobby.”
“And when Daniel walked in, she smiled at him.”
My mother’s face collapsed.
Then Sophie added.
“But Grandma.”
“That’s not the worst part.”
I waited.
She reached into the briefcase.
Then pulled out a small envelope.
On the front was one name.
EVELYN.
Mom whispered.
“Who is Evelyn?”
Sophie looked at her.
“Daniel called her his wife.”
