Owen looked around too.
“Here.”
“Here.”
He nodded.
Then returned to the letters.
A month later, Daniel visited again.
This time there were no mysteries.
He brought his daughter and two grandchildren.
Mrs. Parker made lemonade.
Owen showed the children where strawberries grew.
Daniel stood beside the garden fence.
“My father would’ve liked this.”
Mrs. Parker smiled.
“He would have complained about my tomatoes.”
“He complained about everyone’s tomatoes.”
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t marry him.”
Daniel laughed.
There was no sadness in her voice this time.
Only affection.
The kind that no longer demanded a different ending.
Before leaving, Daniel gave Owen something.
Thomas’s tuning fork.
“I think Dad would want someone curious to have it.”
Owen struck it gently against his palm.
The clear note hummed through the garden.
Mrs. Parker listened.
“So that’s it?” Owen asked.
Mrs. Parker raised an eyebrow.
“What’s it?”
“The story.”
