In February, Robert asked whether he could meet the boys again.

He suggested an afternoon at a public aviation museum, a place with wide halls, exhibits, and enough distractions that nobody would feel forced into emotional conversation.

The boys liked the idea.

Evelyn did not come.

She had written me a six-page letter in which she admitted opening my envelope and concealing the photographs.

I had read it once, then put it away.

I believed she was sorry.