Page 99 of Key West Homecoming

For the first time, she wondered whether Gloria’s decision to leave the cottage to Emma had been less about punishing Arthur than about finally accepting there were some things she couldn’t save him from.

Maybe the cottage and her father’s memory had been the only things she could still save.

Emma spent the early afternoon in the wicker chair with Gloria’s leather notebook open on her knee.

She had promised herself she would read it slowly and in private, and she still meant to. That afternoon, she read the first ten pages.

The entries were short and dated, written in Gloria’s careful handwriting.

Edmund brought oranges from the farmers market. He peeled one and gave me half without asking. It has been so long since anyone did that for me that I didn’t know what to do with the half of an orange in my hand.

The bank called about the mortgage. There is no mortgage. I told them so. The young man on the phone didn’t believe me and asked to speak with my husband. My husband died in 1998. I told him this. He put me on hold, came back, apologized and asked for my Social Security number. I hung up. Edmund laughed.

Rebecca sent a photograph of the girls at the beach. They are getting so tall. Edmund keeps it on his kitchen table a week before he moves it to the shelf.

Then Emma reached an entry that made her stop.

Called Em today. She was in a meeting. I didn’t leave a message. She sounded tired even in her voicemail voice.

Emma read it again.

Then once more.

There was no complaint in it. Gloria hadn’t written that Emma never answered or that she was too busy. She had called, heard nineteen recorded seconds of her granddaughter’s voice and written down that Emma sounded tired.

Emma closed the notebook.

For a few minutes she sat with it beneath one hand before picking up her phone and calling Edmund.

He answered on the fourth ring, slightly out of breath.

“Rebecca has made me promise to sit down before answering the telephone. I was in the kitchen and had to reach a chair before I was allowed to say hello.”

Emma smiled.

“I’m so sorry to make you rush to the phone.”

“Don’t be silly. I can’t sit in a chair forever.”

“I’ve been reading Gloria’s notebook.”

“Ah.”

“I want to ask you something, and I don’t know how to ask it without sounding like I want you to make me feel better.”

“Ask it anyway. I’ll decide whether to make you feel better.”

Emma looked at the closed notebook.

“Did she talk about me?”

“Constantly,” he said. “I could probably describe your office to you, and I haven’t been to Chicago in years. But I’m not going to tell you she didn’t notice how busy you were, because she did.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll tell you what I remember instead. She kept a list on the back of an envelope beside the sugar bowl. Things to tell Em next time.”

Emma closed her eyes.