From one kitchen table to another.
From one generation to the next.
Sometimes it looks like twenty dollars.
Sometimes it looks like an apology.
Sometimes it looks like a lunchbox left on wet grass before sunrise.
And sometimes…
it looks like a little girl in a red dress.
EPILOGUE — FIVE YEARS LATER
Five years have passed since that morning.
Caleb is twelve now.
He is taller than me if you believe him and exactly one inch shorter if you believe the measuring tape.
Sophie is seven.
She is in elementary school.
She loves music, strawberries, sparkly shoes, and telling Caleb when he is “being annoying.”
They still adore each other.
Although neither will admit it in public.
The Red Dress Table is still open.
Walter is seventy-nine.
He claims retirement is “a scam invented by people who dislike useful old men,” so he still shows up three mornings a week.
