Behind the Venue, My Husband Handed Me a Scrapbook Pulled From the Dumpster

very hard not to look at us, and the cold outside was a relief after the warmth of the ballroom.

In the car, Emma sat quietly in the back with the memory book in her lap, tracing the edge of the darkened ribbon with one finger.

David asked softly if she was okay.

“I don’t think Grandma likes me very much,” Emma said.

I started to say the automatic thing,continue reading …