over my son’s knees.
“This is…mine.”
He nodded.
“Where was it?” I asked.
“In a box.”
“What box?”
“This is…mine.”
“Dad found it in the attic when he was going through old stuff.”
I touched the dress.
Richard had kept it.
The earring too.
All these years.
“Why?”
Daniel swallowed. “That’s what we fought about.”
My head snapped up.
“Tell me.”
Richard had kept it.
He sat on the floor across from me, still wearing my ridiculous old dress.
“Four months ago, Dad called me over. He could barely walk that week, remember?”
I did.
“He asked me to bring down a box from the attic. I thought it was insurance papers or something.”
“He asked me to bring down a box from the attic.”
Daniel looked at the earring.
“Then he pulled this dress out.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel rubbed both palms against his knees.
“He
