Page 59 of Key West Homecoming

She read it once before folding it into thirds and putting it in the envelope.

At the bar, Tess took it from her.

“To go back to him?”

“Please. Through Connie.”

“She’ll get it there today.”

Emma glanced toward the kitchen.

“Is Connie here?”

“She went to the fish market. She’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Tell her thank you for me.”

“I will.”

Emma returned to the table.

Edmund’s letter lay beside her bowl. She looked at the handwriting while she ate. There was something oddly fitting about a retired Classics professor writing a letter instead of sending an email. She didn’t know the man yet, but the formality of it felt right with what Connie had told her about him.

She wondered what Gloria had liked about him.

Maybe it was his mind. Gloria had loved books and people who could tell a good story. Maybe he made her laugh. Maybe he was patient with her when she became ill, or maybe she had been patient with him.

Emma stopped herself.

Tomorrow she wouldn’t have to guess.

She finished the soup and smiled when Tess passed her table.

“You undersold it.”

“I told you it was decent.”

“It’s better than decent.”

“Don’t say that too loudly. Connie will raise the price.”

Emma laughed, and some of the nervousness eased.

Back at Winslow’s, Emma carried Edmund’s letter and the probate file out to the patio.

She intended to work, instead, she read his letter again.

The same sentence caught her.

Your grandmother spoke of you with great love.

Emma rested the page on her lap.

She thought about the different versions of Gloria she’d known. There was the grandmother of her childhood who wore aprons, made pancakes and called through the screen door when Emma wandered too far down Hibiscus Lane. There was the Gloria who phoned every Sunday when Emma was in college and ended every conversation with, “I love you, Em. Take good care.”

Later there were Christmas cards and birthday calls. There was the week Gloria came to Chicago when Emma was twenty-two and stood at the edge of Lake Michigan declaring the water too cold to be legal. Emma could still hear the way she’d said it.

Those memories had always seemed like enough.