Milly works the route with Turtle and Bingo on Friday. There’s no trouble. It’s not too hot; the skies are clear. Citizens of Seattle, out and about and in a good mood, enjoy the weather while they can. Rain is forecast tonight.
Later, Milly’s the only one using her condo building fitness center.
The gray-haired maintenance man stands at the gym window, holding a tube of silicone sealant in his hand, leering.
His manager walks by, looks at Milly doing lying leg curls, then turns to him. “You’re in the same spot as last time.”
The maintenance man gulps.
“I think this window has had enough caulk.” The manager taps his tube. “Time to move on.”
He nods sheepishly.
Milly goes for a jog. Upon her return, she carries a shopping bag emblazoned:
— Forever 24
She showers and changes into white jeans and a smart-looking navy polo shirt from her wardrobe. Milly delivers the bag to Meghan.
“Thank you! I still love new clothes.” Meghan serves casserole. “It’s an antique recipe.”
Milly takes a bite. “Delicious. Who taught you?”
“My mother. What about your mother? You never — sorry, we’re not supposed to ask …”
“It’s fine.”
“Is she …”
Milly nods. “I think so?”
Meghan exhales with sympathy. “When? Did you know her?”
“I think — I remember — her face. I don’t have a photograph.”
“I am so sorry, Milly.”
They share a smile and finish their dinner in silence.
It was impossible to know, until just now, if Milly remembered because she’s never said.
But Milly does remember — my daughter remembers — my face.
Thank you, Meghan.