The explanation was so ordinary that it felt almost absurd.
Evelyn looked genuinely sorry.
“I hope it didn’t cause you distress.”
“It caused several questions.”
“I imagine so.”
She glanced at the box.
“But perhaps some answers too.”
After she left, I looked at Adrian.
“This is possibly the first time in my life I’m relieved by clerical error.”
“I’ll pass that along.”
I folded Daniel’s letter carefully.
“Can I keep this?”
“The original belongs to you if you want it.”
My eyes lifted.
“What?”
“Evelyn found it this morning. Daniel never asked for it back.”
“I thought it was your letter.”
“It was.”
He paused.
“But it belongs with his family now.”
—
That night, Mia and I sat on the living-room rug surrounded by copies of Daniel’s foundation photographs.
“Daddy had funny hair,” she announced.
“He did.”
“Why?”
“It was 2018. People made choices.”
She held up the picture of Daniel and Adrian painting.
