And she said, “That was Davis.”

“Lorna.

You were at my table eleven times a year.”

“Yes.”

“You put your hand on my arm on his birthday and told me he’d be proud of me.”

And my mother-in-law said: “Yes.”

And then she said the one true thing she said in that kitchen, and I have never been able to decide whether it makes it better or worse.

“I’d have told you.