I smiled.
“Of course.”
Dad looked toward the ocean.
“What are we having?”
Mom laughed.
“Whatever your son wants.”
Dad shook his head.
“No. Tonight, we eat what we always eat.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Whatever your mother makes.”
For the first time that day, all three of us laughed.
The next morning, Gregory was formally removed from the property.
The forged document became part of an investigation, and Fiona cooperated with the authorities.
My parents changed the locks.
They repaired the window.
They replaced the damaged furniture.
But they never replaced the crystal wineglass Fiona had broken.
Mom kept one piece of it in a small box.
Not as a reminder of what Fiona had done.
As a reminder of what my parents had survived.
