Emma smiled.
“Did he?”
“No. He had given it to a boy who was sleeping near a bus station. He knew I would be angry, so he pretended he had been careless.”
Emma laughed.
“He gave away his coat?”
“He said the other boy was colder.”
Emma looked at me.
“That sounds like something Mom would do.”
Barry smiled.
“It also sounds like something you would do.”
Under the table, Gypsy thumped her tail.
For the first time, Evelyn laughed with her granddaughter.
The sound did not erase the years we had lost.
Nothing could.
Margaret’s lies had stolen birthdays, holidays, and countless ordinary afternoons that should have belonged to Emma and her grandmother.
Frank’s silence had also left wounds that could never be completely explained.
But the truth was finally ours.
No one could hide Emma again.
No one could turn her into a rumor, a financial threat, or an inconvenient secret.
