“You remember every flower?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Only hers.”
Grace heard him.
Her expression softened.
Arthur never mentioned the old company dispute while Annie was around.
But once, while she was helping Mrs. Alvarez make lemonade, I heard Grace and Arthur arguing quietly near the greenhouse.
“You should have told me,” Grace said.
“I tried.”
“You sent checks.”
“I sent letters.”
“Letters with checks.”
“I thought practical help would be more useful than explanations.”
“That was the problem.”
Arthur’s voice dropped.
“What was I supposed to do? Appear at your door after the funeral and tell a seventeen-year-old girl that her father had been right about things I had spent years believing he was wrong about?”
Grace was silent.
“I was ashamed,” Arthur said.
“You weren’t the only one.”
I stepped away before they noticed me listening.
That night, I asked Grace why she had turned down Arthur’s money.
