“Honey, remember what Arthur told you? About how one day he might not be here?”

Miles stared toward the path.

“But he didn’t say today.”

At that exact moment, a park ranger drove around the corner in a small cart.

He slowed when he saw us.

Then stopped.

He climbed out holding a plain white envelope.

Something about the careful way he carried it made my stomach drop.

“Excuse me. Are you the mother whose son plays chess with Arthur?”

I stood immediately.

“Yes. What happened?”

The ranger extended the envelope.

“He came here early this morning. Asked me to make sure you received this.”

Miles pressed himself against my side.

“Where’s Artie?”

The ranger looked at him.

Then at me.

“He really wanted your mom to get this letter, buddy.”

It wasn’t an answer.

And sometimes a non-answer tells you more than an answer ever could.

My hands shook as I took the envelope.

The ranger gave me a small nod and drove away.

I understood why.

He was giving us privacy for whatever came next.

Arthur had written only one word on the front.

**MAISY**

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Four lines.

*Maisy,*

*I won’t be sitting at the table anymore.*

*Please don’t take Miles home yet.*

*Ask him to finish today’s game. He’ll know which one.*

I read it three times.

“Miles…”

My voice sounded wrong.

He grabbed the paper before I could finish.

His eyes moved quickly across the words.

“What game?”

Then he looked toward the chess table.

At the unfinished board.

And suddenly went completely still.

I followed his eyes.

Beside the board sat seven white pawns.

Perfectly aligned.

Miles slowly walked over.