Chapter 14 - WALTER’S BIRTHDAY
Four years after Walter died, we held dinner on his birthday.
Small.
Ryan.
Me.
Ethan.
Rachel.
Linda.
No guests.
No champagne tower.
No performance.
I almost cancelled twice.
Then decided Walter’s memory did not belong solely to the people who misused his name.
We cooked his favorite meal.
Pot roast.
Mashed potatoes.
Apple pie.
Rachel volunteered to wash dishes.
She looked at me.
“Was that too obvious?”
I laughed.
“Extremely.”
She washed anyway.
Linda sat at the table.
At one point she said:
“Walter would be furious with me.”
Ryan replied:
“Yes.”
No one rushed to soften it.
Linda nodded.
“I know.”
Then she looked at me.
“He trusted me to manage something for you.”
“Yes.”
“I treated that as permission to decide whether you deserved it.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I believed her.
Belief did not equal restoration.
But it mattered.
Ethan raised his glass.
“To Dad.”
We drank.
No information bomb.
No secret letter.
No hidden account.
Walter’s role in the mystery was complete.
He had tried to protect our home.
May you like
The living had nearly destroyed that protection.
Then repaired what they could.
