“I’m Aaron,” he said.
“I know.”
His eyes moved toward our garage.
“Is Noah home?”
Noah heard his name and came downstairs.
Aaron swallowed.
“My dad passed last night.”
Noah didn’t say anything at first.
His face barely changed.
Then he asked, “Was he alone?”
Aaron shook his head.
“No. Claire and I were there.”
Noah nodded once.
“Okay.”
For illustrative purposes only
Aaron seemed surprised by how quietly he took it.
Then Noah asked, “When’s the funeral?”
We attended three days later.
The church was crowded enough that I realized Mr. Vance had known far more people than I ever guessed.
Former coworkers.
Neighbors from years ago.
Friends from church.
People I had never seen before.
Aaron and Claire sat in the front row and cried through much of the service.
Noah insisted that we sit in the very back.
“This is family stuff,” he whispered.
“You mattered to him too.”
“Not like they did.”
When the service ended, everyone stood.
People began hugging Aaron and Claire near the front of the church.
Noah and I were waiting for the aisle to clear when a man in a gray suit began walking directly toward us.
He stopped in front of Noah.
“Are you Noah?”
Noah looked at me before answering.
“Yeah.”
The man held out a thick envelope.
“I’m Daniel. I handled Mr. Vance’s estate.”
Noah stared at the envelope.
“What is this?”
“Something he left for you.”
People standing nearby began turning to look.
Aaron noticed the interaction and came toward us with Claire.
Daniel placed the envelope into Noah’s hands.
“He left very specific instructions.”
Noah opened it carefully.
Inside were four smaller envelopes.
Each had handwriting on the front.
Saturday One.
Saturday Two.
Saturday Three.
Saturday Four.
Claire blinked.
“I’ve never seen those.”
“Neither have I,” Aaron said.
Noah looked at Daniel.
“What’s in them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Your instructions are to open one each Saturday. In order.”
Noah suddenly gave a short laugh.
At a funeral.
I nudged him.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just… that’s him.”
Aaron studied the envelopes.
For the first time that afternoon, his expression softened.
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
The following Saturday, Noah opened the first envelope at our kitchen table.
Aaron and Claire had both come over.
Inside was an address and one sentence.
Take Claire with you.
Claire stared at the address.
Her mouth slowly opened.
“I know this place.”
It was a diner about twenty minutes away.
Claire said she had not been there in years.
When we arrived, an older woman behind the counter looked up.
The second she saw Claire, she froze.
“Oh, my goodness.”
Claire frowned.
“Ruth?”
Ruth came rushing around the counter and hugged her.
“I haven’t seen you since your mother died.”
Claire started crying before she even understood why Mr. Vance had sent us there.
Ruth disappeared into the back and returned carrying an old cardboard box.
“Your father brought this to me six months ago.”
She placed the box in front of Claire.
Inside were dozens of recipe cards.
Margaret’s handwriting covered every one.
Claire picked up the first card.
