You just announced my escape pattern over roast chicken. Laura stood. I'm going to the hotel. She picked up her coat. Daniel stood too.
For one second, she thought he was going to stop her. Instead, he took her car keys from the sideboard and held them out. Laura stared at him. You're helping me leave? I thought you liked doing things alone.
That landed harder than she expected. Her fingers closed around the keys. He did not let go immediately. I'm not stopping you, he said. I'm just wondering if leaving is still what you want.
Laura looked at him, then at Frank. Her father's expression had lost all argument. He looked tired. Laura looked at the door, then at the pie. She put the keys back.
No speech, no apology. She returned to the table and pulled out her chair. Frank said nothing. A minute later, he cut the last slice of apple pie and pushed it toward her. Laura looked at it.
That's manipulative. Frank picked up his coffee. Effective, though. Daniel looked down to hide a smile. Laura stayed through dessert.
After the others left, she carried plates to the sink. Daniel joined her. She handed him a towel. Are you always this irritating? Only on connecting flights.
She laughed. Their hands touched when they reached for the same glass. Neither made anything of it. A few minutes later, Daniel placed the half-dollar beside her hand. Laura looked at it.
"You read it?" "No, the coin said tomorrow." "You flipped tails?" Daniel dried the glass carefully. I didn't say which side meant what.
Laura stared at him. For once, he had beaten her at a Bennett rule. He started toward the hall, then stopped. But I'm going to read it. Laura looked at the coin.
Tomorrow, Frank's birthday. A deadline. The next morning, Laura woke before 7 and found the hallway quiet. She heard voices through the front door. Frank and Daniel were on the porch.
Neither had noticed her. The wooden box sat between them. Daniel held the letter. Frank held the burned pocket watch. You don't have to read all of it, Frank said.
Daniel looked at the page. I think I do, he began. Samuel's words were plain, no excuses. He wrote that he was not sorry for going back for Tom. He was sorry for what came after.
Sorry for letting shame make the first decision and pride defend every decision after it. He wrote that he had almost returned to Richmond dozens of times. After hearing Frank had surgery, after Helen died, after Norah mentioned Frank had become a grandfather. Each time Samuel convinced himself to wait, a week because Frank might still be angry. A month because the explanation still felt impossible.
A year because by then the silence itself needed explaining. Daniel paused. Frank stared at the porch steps. Daniel continued, "Samuel had spent years believing there would eventually be a moment when returning felt natural. Instead, every year made it harder."
Then Daniel reached one line and stopped. Frank looked at him. Daniel read it anyway. I kept waiting for a better time to knock on your door. Inside the hallway, Laura rested one hand against the wall.
The sentence felt too familiar. Daniel kept reading. The pocket watch had belonged to Frank. It fell from his coat during the warehouse fire. Samuel found it afterward, blackened along one side, but intact.