And in this version I could see what the smaller copy had obscured.
Thomas wasn’t looking at the camera.
He was looking slightly to the left of it.
Smiling at something — or someone — just out of frame.
“Who took this?” I asked.
Daniel came to stand beside me.
He looked at the photograph for a long moment.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I always assumed a neighbor.” A pause.
“Maybe that’s not what it was.”
I set the photograph back on the mantelpiece.
We stood side by side looking at it.
“He built a good life,” I said.
“He had you.
He had his business.
He had this house waiting for someone who might never come.” I paused.
“That’s a lot of faith for one person to carry.”
“He was stubborn,” Daniel said.
“Quietly.
He never argued.
He just — decided things and then held onto them.”
“I know,” I said.
“I remember.”
Daniel turned to look at me.
“What do you want to do with it?
The house.”
