Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“How did he know her name?”
“Paula told him in September. He’s been working on the room almost every weekend.”
I sat in Mom’s old rocking chair.
“Why didn’t he call?”
Raymond looked at me.
“Because he was waiting for you.”
He paused.
“He said you made it clear years ago that he never showed up. He didn’t want to force himself back into your life.”
Then Raymond repeated my father’s words.
“If she calls, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. If she never calls, at least the room will be ready.”
That was when I finally opened the envelope.
Inside was an old brass key.
Attached to it was a tag in my mother’s handwriting.
Simone’s room.
I remembered that key.
Mom gave it to me when I was twelve.
I thought I had lost it years ago.
