“I asked you to pass the salad, sweetheart. Two times. You were miles away. Everything okay?”
“Of course.” Diana hands him the hefty wooden bowl. “Here you go, Dad.”
“Thank you,” Francis says, as he piles greens onto his plate. “Evan and I are making progress on the radiator. We bled it and cleaned out some sludge built up inside. Next, we’re going to turn off the heat and turn it back on again. If that doesn’t fix it, we may need some outside help, I’m sorry to say.”
Her father and brother-in-law keep Diana’s house in working order, like it’s an Olympic sport. One or both of them stops by each week to check on the boiler or the HVAC system. They wash her car, put airin the tires of the kids’ bicycles, and clear snow from the roof. They do their best to fill the gap Tom left.
“Thanks for trying,” Diana says, biting into the lasagna. Her mother gave her an end piece, her favorite, and the top cheesy layer is crunchy from the broiler and spiked with a welcome kick of oregano.
As Noah begins an involved story about a game he and his friends play during recess, Diana studies her parents. They’ve aged over the past year. The lines on either side of her father’s mouth are more pronounced, and his hair has turned completely white. While he works part-time at a real estate firm in town, helping longtime clients sell the homes they raised their families in as they retire to Florida or move into assisted living, her mother has fully stepped back from teaching elementary school. Vivian has embraced days filled with exercise classes at Alcott’s senior center and meetings of the Garden Club. What would their lives have been like if Tom hadn’t died? Vivian has long wanted to visit the lavender fields of Provence; Francis talked about getting a place on the Cape. They put their plans on hold to look after their widowed daughter and grandchildren. When will they be able to live the lives they’ve imagined for themselves?
“Phoebe, you’re up,” Francis says. “What do you have to share?”
“We found the time capsule,” she says, nearly shouting.
“Time capsule?” The General asks, looking at Diana for clarification. Diana busies herself with the last remaining shreds of arugula on her plate.
“We opened a Leap Day time capsule,” Phoebe continues. “It’s full of photos, newspapers, one of my drawings, and Duncan’s homework. Stuff like that.”
Duncan remains silent, looking at Diana with a blank stare. He’s promised to keep the letter’s contents to himself, and this is his first real test.
“There was a letter for Mommy from Daddy in it, too,” Phoebe adds.
The noise in the room stops. Diana can practically see Andrea holding her breath for what comes next.
“It was a love letter,” Diana lies.
Perhaps this cancer is the universe fixing my wrongs. If it is, I understand, though I wish leaving you was not the debt I had to pay.
“That’s remarkable,” her mother says, and the room exhales. “And surprising, I would imagine.”
“Very,” Diana says.
Duncan drops his napkin onto his plate. “Grandma, can I be excused?”
Diana notices the slight: asking her mother for permission to leave the table, not her. She lets it go. Tonight is not the night to criticize her son.
“Me too!” shouts Noah.
“Clear your dishes first, please,” The General orders.
The room fills with the clatter of silverware and plates. The children, freed from table manners and supervision, disappear, promising to come back for dessert. Francis returns to the stubborn heater for another attempt at a fix. “The garlic bread gave me an idea,” he says. Evan trails behind him, trying to hide his grin.
Diana remains at the table, finishing her wine and handing empty glasses to Andrea to bring into the kitchen.
“You didn’t tell me about the letter,” Andrea says on her third trip back to the table, the lasagna pan in her arms. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s what you would expect of a letter like that.” Diana clears crumbs from the tablecloth. “We can’t let Mom do the dishes alone. We won’t hear the end of it.” She stands up to blow out the candles and pick up the last of the plates. “I’ll get the rest of this.”
“Just don’t finish the wine,” Andrea says, laughing. “I’m off tomorrow and could really use another glass.”
When she’s alone in the room, Diana realizes she’s trembling. She’s never deliberately deceived her family before—“You’re our open book,” her father always says—and she’s disturbed by how easy it is to hide things from them. She wonders if it was easy for Tom, too.
Chapter Nine
The Monday after Family Dinner finds Diana at the old Victorian that houses the law firm Tom and Jonathan Hobart started more than fifteen years ago. She’s here to meet with Jonathan in the hope that he can provide insight into Tom’s past. She texted him last night, after spending the weekend looking out for strange cars and agonizing over Tom’s secrecy and her children’s grief. Duncan’s outpouring on the basketball court keeps coming back to her:He gets fuzzier in my mind. Sometimes, I can’t remember him on my own. Like he’s only a story someone told me, not a real person.She can’t let this letter be the way Duncan remembers Tom. She needs answers for him—and for herself, too.
Diana surveys the building through her car window. Tom and Jonathan spent a year renovating this space, transforming it from a private residence into a quirky office building. They knocked down walls on the weekends and refinished the floors after spending the days writing briefs and meeting with clients. Tom came home many nights with sawdust in his hair and nails in his pockets. Diana and Jonathan’s wife, Lily, in an effort to see their husbands, if only to feed them, took turns bringing Chinese takeout or pizza, sitting together on the front steps as the two men worked inside. They were there so often Duncan took his first steps in what is now the first-floor bathroom, all of them cheering the boy on as Diana knelt in front of him, arms outstretched.
