That small memory gave Rebecca something official reports never could.
Not an explanation.
A final ordinary image of her sister caring about someone she loved.
The urn was eventually transferred to Rebecca.
She held a private memorial in Oregon.
A month later she mailed Melissa a photograph of Nora laughing on a beach.
On the back she wrote:
Thank you for remembering one good thing.
Melissa framed it.
By November, she began working two mornings a week at Grant Family Market.
Not because she needed to prove she was the daughter I remembered.
Because she liked being there.
The first morning, she stood behind the bakery counter while Maria showed her how much the inventory system had changed.
“This is unnecessary,” Melissa complained.
Maria laughed.
“You used to say the old system was unnecessary.”
“I was probably right both times.”
A customer entered.
Mrs. Patterson had been shopping with us for thirty years.
