For several months, we heard very little from him.
Then, one afternoon, my phone rang.
“Dad?”
“Hello, Daniel.”
His voice sounded uncertain.
“Could I come see Mom?”
I looked toward Eleanor.
She was sitting in her favorite chair, reading.
When I told her who was calling, she immediately held out her hand.
I gave her the phone.
“Of course you can come, sweetheart,” she said.
Three days later, Daniel appeared at our door carrying flowers.
And something else.
A carefully folded piece of ivory fabric.
Eleanor recognized it immediately.
Her handmade tablecloth.
Daniel held it out.
“I found this packed away after the house was sold.”
She touched the embroidered edge.
“I thought Vanessa had thrown it out.”
He shook his head.
“No, Mom. I kept it.”
His voice trembled.
Then he looked directly at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears.
Daniel continued.
“I stood there while Vanessa embarrassed you. I cared more about what people thought of our house than how you felt.”
