Billy opened the door with the grin he always had, wide, unguarded, and genuinely happy to see me. His wife, Diane, called out, ” Hello! ” from the kitchen. His two daughters were somewhere upstairs, music drifting down.
The house was full of family photographs. Vacations and Christmases, and ordinary Saturday afternoons. A whole life assembled and displayed along every wall.
I had the letter in my bag. I’d planned exactly what I was going to say.
“I need to see him.”
“Catherine!” Billy pulled me into a hug. “I’ve been thinking about you since the funeral. Your grandmother would’ve been so proud. Come in, come in. Diane! Catherine’s here!”
We sat in the living room. Diane brought coffee, and one of his daughters came down to say hi. The whole scene was so warm, ordinary, and complete that something inside me locked up entirely.
Then Billy looked at me with soft eyes and said, “Your grandmother was the finest woman I’ve ever known. She kept this whole family together.”
The words went through me like a current.
“Your grandmother would’ve been so proud.”