Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead

Foster remained near the doorway.

“You don’t have to answer anything tonight, Melissa.”

My daughter looked toward the window.

Then said:

“He used to complain about the bakery.”

I waited.

“He said the free samples were ruining your profit margin.”

I laughed once before I could stop myself.