The funeral was held on a quiet, overcast Tuesday morning.

I stood beside the grave holding my daughter Juniper’s small hand while a cool autumn wind stirred the fallen leaves across the damp grass.

Only a handful of people came — a few old neighbors, my attorney, and Prudence, who stood a respectful few paces behind us.

And further back, near the treeline at the edge of the cemetery, stood Philippa.

Chapter 18 — Step Forward

She wore a simple dark coat and kept her distance, honoring the unwritten rule that had governed her whole life for nearly a quarter of a century.