“Dad?”
We turned.
A little girl stood there wearing denim overalls and bright yellow sneakers.
Her dark hair was tied into two uneven braids.
She looked about eleven.
She stared at me curiously.
Julian stood.
“Lucy, sweetheart, I thought you were with Mrs. Collins.”
“She said I could get my sketchbook.”
Lucy looked at me.
Then her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Julian's expression changed.
“Lucy…”
But the girl was already approaching.
She stared at me with astonishing seriousness.
“Are you Margaret?”
I nodded.
“Yes, dear.”
Her face lit up.
“Grandpa Thomas had a picture of you.”
My breath caught.
“He did?”
She nodded eagerly.
“On his desk. He said you were the smartest woman he'd ever met.”
Tears sprang to my eyes.
Julian looked devastated.
“Lucy, honey…”
But she wasn't finished.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small folded paper.
“Grandpa told me to give you this if we ever met.”
