Mark’s hand froze on a cardboard box.
“What did Stephanie say?”
“That if you came around, I shouldn’t let you touch the blue box.”
For the briefest moment, something changed in his face.
Then he laughed.
“She was sick.”
“She was scared.”
“Of me?”
“You tell me.”
He glanced toward the relatives gathered in the living room before lowering his voice.
“Leave old pain buried, Fiona.”
The next morning, I cooked beef stew because it was the only meal I knew how to make without ruining it. I packed it into one of Mom’s plastic containers and drove back to her house.
The first thing I noticed was that Victor’s shelter was empty.
The blanket had been folded.
The coffee cans were gone.
Even the firewood had been stacked neatly.
“Victor?” I called.
“Fiona.”
I turned around.
Victor stood near the back steps wearing a clean dark coat. Beside him sat a black SUV I had never seen before.
My stomach sank.
“Whose car is that?”
Before he could answer, Mrs. Bell stepped out from the driver’s side.
“Borrowed from my nephew,” she said. “Victor wanted to say goodbye to your mother without Mark causing trouble. We visited her grave.”
I looked at Victor’s coat.
He touched the sleeve awkwardly.
“Borrowed too.”
Then I noticed the locket in his hand.
“Where did you get my mother’s necklace? I know it from photos.”
His thumb traced the dented silver edge.
“Stephanie gave it to me.”
