The front door opened before she reached the porch.
A woman stood in the doorway. Thirties. Dark hair. The expression of someone who has been expecting something and is now not sure she’s ready for it to arrive.
A small boy appeared behind her in the hallway, clutching a toy dinosaur. He looked about four or five.
“Grandpa?” he called.
Margaret’s knees went uncertain.
The woman looked at Margaret. Then she looked at the Polaroid in
her hand.
“Oh God,” she said.
Margaret stepped inside before the woman could decide whether to stop her.
“That is my son,” she said. She held up the photograph. “That child is my son Daniel.”
The woman stared at the Polaroid. “That’s my husband.”
Margaret could not speak for a moment.
“Where is he?”
The woman pulled the little boy gently behind her. “At work. Lumber yard, about thirty minutes from here.”
