Emily held the photograph between her fingers.

“Did she know?” she asked.

Thomas shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think she did.”

Outside, snow had begun falling again.

Chapter Two: The Son Who Stayed Away

Daniel arrived the following evening in a dark blue rental car.

Emily watched from the sitting-room window as he parked beside the curb and sat behind the wheel for nearly a minute before getting out.

He had grown thinner since she last saw him. There was gray in his beard, and he wore the expensive wool coat he had bought after becoming a partner at his architectural firm. He took a small suitcase from the trunk and stood looking at the house.

Emily opened the front door before he reached it.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

He looked past her into the hallway.

“Where’s Dad?”

“In the kitchen.”

Daniel stepped inside. The house smelled of furniture polish and the cinnamon potpourri their mother always put out in December. His childhood coat hooks were still fixed to the wall beneath the staircase, though they now held reusable shopping bags and Thomas’s gardening hat.

He removed his shoes without being asked.

Emily noticed. Their mother had spent twenty years reminding him to do that.

Thomas was standing at the kitchen sink when Daniel entered. He turned, dried his hands on a towel, and looked at his son.

For a moment, Daniel saw the man who had taught him to ride a bicycle, holding the back of the seat as they went down Willow Lane. Then he noticed how loose his father’s sweater had become around the shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

Thomas nodded and embraced him.

Daniel held on longer than either of them expected.

That evening, they ate chicken casserole that a neighbor had brought over. Thomas managed a few mouthfuls before putting down his fork. Emily discussed the funeral arrangements because someone had to. Daniel asked about the death certificate, the church, the cemetery, and whether their mother had left any instructions.

“She wanted the old hymn,” Thomas said.

“Which one?” Emily asked.

“‘Abide with Me.'”

Daniel looked at the table.

Margaret had sung that hymn while washing dishes when they were children. She never remembered all the verses, but she sang the first and last with remarkable confidence.

“She hated funerals,” Daniel said.

Emily glanced at him.

“She hated people making a fuss,” he corrected.

“She went to everyone else’s,” Emily replied.

Daniel lowered his eyes.

After dinner, Thomas went upstairs. Emily began clearing the plates, but Daniel took the dishcloth from her.

“I can do that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They worked in silence for a while.

Then Emily said, “You could have come last Christmas.”