It wasn’t the family Claire had once thought she was building.

But it was real, and it was staying, and a wish for nobody to ever leave was, she was determined, going to keep coming truer every year.

Later, George found her in the kitchen with her hands in the dishwater.

“I’ll only say this once,” he said quietly. “I’m proud of you, Claire. You went through something that turns most people bitter, and you didn’t let it. You stayed exactly who you are.” “Thank you, George.”

He picked up a dish towel and started drying, standing beside her at the sink the way he must have stood beside Ruth for forty years.

“I’ve spent a lot of nights these past months being ashamed of my son,” he said.