Chapter 1
“You told me to choose. There is no new wife.”
Ainsley stared at the ring on the ballroom floor.
She did not move.
Neither did I.
Behind me, Eira clutched the torn back of her dress together with both hands.
Her face was wet.
The locket was in my palm.
Warm from Ainsley’s grip.
Nolan was still struggling among fallen music stands.
I ignored him.
I crouched in front of my daughter.
“Did she hurt your neck?”
Eira shook her head.
Then touched the empty place beneath her throat.
“Daddy…”
I opened my hand.
Her mother’s locket.
She grabbed it immediately.
Not greedily.
Protectively.
That bothered me.
A four-year-old should not have learned to protect memories from adults.
I fastened it around her neck again.
Then I asked:
“What did you mean when you said she’s getting rid of Mommy’s things?”
Ainsley stepped forward.
“Galen—”
I raised one hand.
She stopped.
Eira looked toward her.
Fear.
Then back to me.
“Mommy’s blue box is gone.”
My chest tightened.
“What blue box?”
“The one in my room.”
I knew it.
Celeste’s keepsake box.
Letters.
Photographs.
A silk scarf.
The hospital bracelet from Eira’s birth.
Small ordinary things Celeste had asked me to save.
“Anything else?”
Eira nodded.
“Mommy picture.”
Which one?
“The one by my bed.”
Ainsley closed her eyes.
I slowly stood.
“How much?”
She said nothing.
I looked at Nolan.
His face had changed too.
Good.
He knew.
“How much of my wife’s belongings have you removed from this house?”
Ainsley finally whispered:
“I was making room.”
For what?
She looked at me.
“For our life.”
There it was.
Not jealousy over a necklace.
May you like
A renovation of memory.
My daughter had been watching her dead mother disappear object by object while I prepared to marry the person doing it.
