Even the chipped edge of the mirror had been carefully stabilized.
“Oh my God… how did you arrange all of this?”
Henry looked toward Graham.
“He helped.”
My head snapped around.
“The deal.”
Graham nodded. “Part of it.”
“Part?”
Before he could explain, Marissa’s footsteps sounded behind us.
She had reached the yard.
Then she saw Henry.
“Henry?”
He turned.
Her gaze shifted to the vanity.
The cheesecake tilted dangerously in her hands.
Marissa walked closer.
“No.”
Henry stayed still.
She set the cake on the patio table.
Then reached toward the small top drawer.
Her fingers rested on the old brass handle.
I looked between Graham and Henry.
“You still haven’t told me what the deal was.”
Henry glanced at our daughter, then back at me.
“No.” He sighed. “Graham’s part was telling me when Mari stopped checking every photograph. Mine was restoring this if that day ever came.”
Henry looked at Graham.
“Then tonight, he apparently decided you needed a part too.”
Graham shrugged. “I needed to get you outside somehow.”
I stared at them both. “My turn to do what?”
Henry held my gaze. “See what Mari doesn’t need from you anymore.”
Marissa reached the vanity.
“Henry, why do you have this?”
Henry touched the polished edge.
“You told me you didn’t want it in your room, Mari. You never told me to throw it away.”
Marissa stared at him.
Then Graham quietly said, “This is where the deal comes in.”
I turned on him.
“Start talking.”
—
Months earlier, Graham had asked Henry for his blessing before proposing.
“I didn’t give him permission,” Henry said. “Mari doesn’t need mine. We just talked.”
Henry had asked Graham one question.
“What do you love most about her face?”
Graham’s expression had apparently soured immediately.
“I don’t know how to answer that without cutting her into pieces.”
So Henry told him about Marissa’s old habit.
Every photograph.
Every family gathering.
Every camera.
“Is it okay?”
“Can I see it?”
“Delete that one.”
Henry looked at me and asked, “You remember?”
