Chapter 2: What the Little Girl Remembered
Every eye in that room turned to me.
I kept my voice steady.
"I'd like to say a few words about family.
About what it means.
And about what it costs when someone forgets."
Claire's smile didn't move.
But her grip on Emmett's arm tightened.
"Margot lost her mother three years ago," I said.
"She was two years old.
She doesn't remember Phoebe's voice.
She doesn't remember being held by her.
All she has are the stories we tell her — and the photographs we keep."
A few guests shifted in their seats.
Someone near the back put down their glass.
"Today she was told she wasn't important enough to be in the family photos."
The room went completely still.
Emmett's face changed.
He looked at Claire.
She looked straight ahead.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," I said.
"I'm here because that little girl in the pink dress deserves to know she is loved.
By everyone at this table."
Then Margot's voice came from behind me — small and clear.
"Grandpa…
she said Mommy doesn't belong in the pictures either."
May you like
I hadn't known that part.
Neither, from the look on his face, had Emmett.
