jaw tight.
“Claire,” my mother said, “you promised you would let him read it first.”
“I did,” Claire replied. “And he has.”
My mother looked at me.
“Your grandfather had a brother,” she said.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“His name was Daniel.”
The name from the letter.
My father closed his eyes.
My mother continued, her voice breaking.
“They were very close when they were young. Daniel was older by three years. They did everything together. They worked odd jobs, helped their mother, and talked about opening a small
