her personality and laughter belonged only to her.
Margot lost her mother when she was two years old and barely remembered her.
That’s why I tried to talk about Phoebe naturally, so that she would remain a real person to my granddaughter, rather than a distant figure in old photographs.
“Your mother loved this.”
“Your mother used to do that too.”
“Your mother once said exactly the same thing.”
Together, Emmett and I tried to give Margot as much of a sense of security as possible.
After Phoebe’s death, he became a widower and the father of a little girl. He was only twenty-eight years old.
Grief could have driven us apart, but the opposite happened. Family
We started having Sunday lunches together. He called me whenever Margot was sick, and I called him whenever something happened that Phoebe certainly would have laughed about.
Emmett wasn’t a perfect father.
I
wasn’t a perfect grandfather either.
But he was always there for his daughter.
So when he told me one day that he had met someone, I didn’t object.
— I’ve met a woman — he said after Sunday lunch.
— Have you been seeing each other for long?
— Three months.
Her name was Claire. She taught at an elementary school. According to Emmett, she was calm, kind, and patient. Pregnancy and Motherhood
Margot had already met her several times, and it seemed that she accepted her well.
— Are you happy? — I asked.
— I think so.
He fell silent for a moment.
— You don’t mind?
— If you’re happy, then everything is fine. Phoebe would want you to move on with your life.
When Emmett decided to marry Claire, I supported him.
I came to the wedding not to compare her with my daughter. I wanted Emmett to have a chance to begin a new
