A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son

She put her arms around me and held on without checking the time.

I let her.

That did not mean we were finished with the conversation.

It meant there was still a relationship in which to have it.

Outside, Frank waited in his blue pickup.

“Everything in writing?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He opened the passenger door.