That night, Lily fell asleep holding the castle photograph.
On our final morning, she was still sleeping upstairs, her Minnie ears resting beside her pillow.
Tony went outside to pack the rental car while I stopped at the front desk to check out.
The manager, a woman named Denise, entered our room number.
Denise hesitated, then reached beneath the desk and took out a sealed envelope.
Then she looked through the glass doors toward Tony.
Her expression changed so suddenly that my stomach tightened.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Denise hesitated, then reached beneath the desk and took out a sealed envelope.
She slid it toward me.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I thought you already knew.”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice.
My fingers tightened around the envelope.
“Knew what?”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“A man named Robert paid for two of your arrangements. He arrived this morning and is waiting on the patio. Your husband said he would speak with you before any meeting.”
I looked toward Tony.
“He said you would recognize him.”
He was arranging suitcases in the trunk.
“Who is Robert?”
Denise glanced toward the breakfast patio.
“He said you would recognize him.”
An older man sat alone at a table, holding one of the photographs taken in front of the castle.
The last time I had seen him was at Adam’s funeral.
But I knew him.
Robert.
Adam’s father.
The last time I had seen him was at Adam’s funeral.
He had stood on the other side of the grave and refused to look at me.
His first one accused me of keeping Adam’s child from him.
After Lily was born, we exchanged letters.
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