« No. Is that really you? This can’t be. »
« It is. »
« How dare you come here after all these years? »
Cole’s jaw tightened.
« It is. »
« You told me my daughter was dead. »
I grabbed the envelope.
***
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside a much younger Cole.
She wore a yellow floral dress. I recognized the fabric because scraps of it had been sewn into the quilt across my lap.