On Second Thought(87)

“The bench for Nathan.”

They glanced at each other, and I immediately knew they didn’t have any clue what I was talking about.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s a bench dedicated to Nathan. I thought it was from you.”

“Did Brooke do it?” Mr. Coburn asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Eloise murmured. She looked at me, her brow furrowed with concern.

I looked into my iced tea. “Maybe Madeleine, then.”

She put down her teacup. “I’m sure her heart is in the right place. But I’m so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I’ll call her.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said. “Listen, I know it’s... I brought my camera for your portrait. We never got around to it, and I thought something more spontaneous might be better.”

“Our portrait?” Mr. Coburn asked.

“For our anniversary,” Eloise said. “The party.”

“We’re still having that?”

“I told you, deah. Remember? Because of the scholarship fund?”

“Right, right.”

“I’ll make it as painless as possible,” I said, faking a smile.

And so I told them where to sit, adjusted Mr. Coburn’s collar under his crewneck sweater and saw something I’d never seen so clearly—Nathan’s parents loved each other. They’d never recover from their son’s death, but they had each other. They’d love, honor and cherish each other for the rest of their lives, and the magnitude of their loss had brought them closer together.

“You’re a beautiful couple,” I said, and my voice was husky.

“We’ve been blessed,” Mrs. Coburn said, her voice trembling a little. “We’ve been very blessed.”

Mr. Coburn covered her hand with his and smiled at her, his eyes full of tears. She smiled back and touched his cheek.

Sometimes, a smile was the bravest act of all.





Chapter Twenty-One

Ainsley

On Sunday, I left the fairy presents in the little houses Jonathan’s daughters and I had made—two flower beads, and two tiny glass figurines of a snail and a cricket. I spent far too much time agonizing over what the fairies should leave, but I loved picturing the girls finding the gifts.

And imagining their dad smiling when they showed him.

I was visiting my grandmother that day, and it just so happened that Gram-Gram’s apartment had a nice view of the side lawn, and yes, I found myself lingering there, glancing out the window.

Gram-Gram was trying to remember her computer password. Ollie sat on her lap, helping by putting his little paws on the keyboard occasionally. Chances were strong he’d figure it out before she did.

“Do you want a sandwich, honey? I made a ham this week.”

“I love ham!” I said, always happy to eat.

“Sniff it first, in case it’s just about to go bad.”

“Roger that.” I went into the kitchen and sniffed; there was probably enough salt in that sucker to kill any salmonella or E. coli anyway. “Smells good enough to me!” I took a knife and started hacking away.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Your mother is so fussy about these things.” She gave me a squeeze. “Don’t use that knife, honey, it’s sharp. I’ll do it for you.”

Dear Gram-Gram. She did love having someone to fuss over. Candy treated her like she had a foot in the grave, raising her voice so Gram-Gram could hear her, even though hearing loss wasn’t one of her problems.

“How is your mother?” Gram-Gram asked, reading my mind.

“Oh, fine,” I said. I went to the computer and started entering random passwords. LettieCarson. lettiecarson. lettiecarson1. Gram-Gram.

A few days ago, Candy had been on the local television lifestyle show, where she was a regular for parenting issues. The host asked her how many children she had and she’d said, “Two children and one stepdaughter.” The truth, but still.

I tried Gram-Gram’s birthday, her anniversary to her late husband, the date of his death.

Nothing. “Did you have a pet when you were little?” I asked.

“I did,” she said. “Blacky the cat. Oh, he was wonderful!”

Blacky. BlackytheCat. blackythecat.

“I’m going to throw that thing out the window!” Gram-Gram said. “I hate technology! What happened to the good old days when people could just talk to each other? Here you go!” Gram-Gram said. She handed me a sandwich, which had at least half a pound of ham on it, and beamed.

I typed in SeanKateAinsley.

And I was in.

“Aw, Gram-Gram,” I said. “Your password is us. You’re so sweet! Here, I’ll write it down, okay?”

“What if the terrorists find it and hack me?” she asked.

“That’s a chance I’ll take.”

“Well, you’re a genius. Thank you so much, honey! Now eat your sandwich before it spoils.”

Mmm.

“Do you remember my mother, Gram-Gram?” I asked, taking a bite. Oh. Okay, maybe the ham wasn’t so fresh. I discreetly spit it into a napkin and fake-chewed.

“Candy? Of course, honey! I’m her mother!”

“I meant Michelle.”