I opened it carefully.
Inside were two items.
The first was a savings bond in my name.
Worth almost $30,000.
The second was a photograph.
At first I didn’t understand it.
It showed Dad standing beside my mother.
They were older.
The timestamp was only eight months before his death.
They were standing beneath the unfinished Margaret’s Place sign.
Dad wasn’t looking at the camera.
He was looking at Mom.
And he was smiling.
Not his tiny half-smile.
A real smile.
I turned the photograph over.
Mom had written one sentence:
We found our way back to each other.
I stared at her.
She had followed us to the dock.
“You and Dad?”
Her cheeks reddened.
I had never seen my sixty-year-old mother blush.
“You were together?”
“For the last two years.”
My mouth fell open.
Frank looked smug.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
I threw my hands up.
