By the following evening, I was sitting beside a hospital bed, holding her hand while machines hummed around her.
Nothing in my life had ever hurt like losing her.
For months afterward, I woke up reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Lily had been three.
Sometimes she asked when Mommy was coming home.
Sometimes she simply carried Nora’s old cardigan around the house because it still smelled like her.
Now I was staring at my late wife’s name on a document from fifteen years ago.
Three years before I had even met her.
“What does Nora have to do with any of this?”
Grandma pulled out a chair.
“Daniel, sit down.”
“No.”
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
“Tell me.”
Grandma glanced toward Lily.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere private.”
For once, my mother agreed.
“Yes. Please. There’s no reason to upset the child.”
I looked at her.
“The child you’ve all been laughing at?”
She lowered her eyes.
I turned toward Lily.
“Sweetheart, would you like to sit in the library for a little while? Mrs. Carter can bring you some cookies.”
Mrs. Carter was Grandma’s longtime housekeeper.
Lily liked her.
After a moment, she nodded.
I walked her to the library and settled her on the sofa.
Before I left, she caught my hand.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are we rich now?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
I sat beside her.
“Why do you ask?”
She looked down at her dress.
“Because Aunt Vanessa said people with cheap clothes don’t have good futures.”
I felt frustration rising again.
But I kept my voice gentle.
“Lily, listen to me. Having money doesn’t make someone better than anybody else.”
She considered that.
“Then why is Grandma giving us so much?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do we have to buy expensive clothes?”
I smiled despite everything.
“No, sweetheart.”
She brightened.
“Good. Because I really like this dress.”
I hugged her.
“Then you should wear it whenever you want.”
When I returned to the dining room, several relatives had quietly left.
