On the back, written underneath a birthday wish, Evelyn had added: Never let anyone convince you that affection has to be earned by becoming somebody else.

“Mom wrote that before she died,” Natalie said.

“Paige carried the card everywhere for years.

I found this copy in her old desk.”

I read the sentence twice.

If Evelyn had lived, perhaps the family would have turned out differently.

Or perhaps she had spent decades trying to make a difficult marriage bearable.

I had no way of knowing, and I didn’t want to turn a dead woman into an explanation for everything her husband had done.