“She burned every photograph in the house except the ones where she could trim my coat out of the edge of the frame.”

“He found out later,” I said, remembering the cut photograph on the mantel.

“He told me in the driveway that he knew.”

Marcus closed his eyes for three seconds, his jaw tightening until the muscle in his cheek twitched.

When he opened them, two tears ran down the deep creases beside his mouth without his face changing at all.

“May I hold my grandson, Vivian?” he asked.

I lifted Noah carefully, supporting his small head with my left palm, and laid him in his grandfather’s waiting arms.