Nobody had warned me that he would be present at the wedding through the clothes Claire wore.

She led me into the church kitchen, away from the people beginning to arrive.

With a clean cloth beneath it, she laid the jacket across the counter beside the cooling coffee urns.

Near the collar was another small tag, carrying the name and a handwritten number.

“Fourteen,” I said.

Claire nodded.

“What does fourteen mean?”

“It’s a file number.”