“You found it,” I said again, louder, steadier. “And you kept it.”
“It’s mine,” he said. “Everything of hers is mine. She was my wife.”
“She was my mother,” I said, and my voice cracked on the word.
He pointed toward the door. His face was red, his eyes hard, and for a moment he filled the space the way he had always filled spaces when he needed to continue reading …
