A blue first-place ribbon was already pinned to the velvet edge of his display board.

The side door opened at a quarter past two, letting in a cool breeze from the hallway.

Richard Caldwell walked down the center aisle in a plain navy blazer, a leather camera bag over his shoulder.

Margaret Caldwell walked right beside him, dressed in a simple wool cardigan and carrying a canvas tote bag.

She reached into her bag and took out the thick, leather-bound Caldwell family album, setting it gently on her knees as she sat down beside me.

“We took the eleven o’clock flight from Denver,” Margaret said, laying her hand over mine.