I wanted the truth about its contents recorded, and I wanted to stop treating an object associated with deception as though it held my daughter’s life.

That evening I moved Eleanor’s photograph from the mantel to the table by her favorite chair.

I placed one of Emma’s drawings beside it.

The mantel looked empty.

The room felt strange.

But for the first time, it belonged to the living as much as to the dead.

PART 15

Winter came early.