The Conversation With Helen

Helen called me one afternoon while Meredith was visiting the factory.

She asked whether I could meet her for lunch without making it a secret from her daughter.

I appreciated the distinction.

I sent Meredith a message, and she replied that she was glad we were going to talk.

We chose a small restaurant near Helen’s hotel.

She arrived early and placed a paper bag on the table.

Inside was a tin of biscuits Meredith liked as a child and a photograph of her at sixteen, standing outside the manufacturing plant in an oversized protective helmet.