I closed the cover because I could not read another word without crying.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Ruth rested her hand on mine.

“We both wanted him, Evelyn.

That doesn’t have to be a competition.”

PART 9

Lillian arrived that afternoon carrying the tax box.

The label was written in my father’s block capitals, the same stern lettering he used on chore lists when I was a child.