I wasn’t trying to forgive him on a schedule.

I simply enjoyed the instrument.

The fact that he had once owned it no longer meant every chord belonged to his memory.

One evening Frank said, “You’ve made the place your own.”

I looked around.

The posters from Northline still hung in the hall, but there were also photographs from our workshops, client thank-you notes, and a framed drawing from Elaine’s grandchildren.