wore the same black suit to every important family occasion.
When I was little, I used to hide beneath that suit jacket when he visited our house. It smelled faintly of cedarwood and the peppermint candies he kept in his pockets.
After he died, my grandmother stored his clothes in a cedar chest.
Years later, when she passed away, my mother told me the chest had been donated to a local charity.
The suit had disappeared with it.
Or so I had always believed.
I stared at Claire, unable to
