Claire at six years old wearing enormous yellow rain boots.
Claire at twelve with braces.
Eleanor standing outside 114 Aldridge beside a row of neighbors.
Nathaniel Graves appeared in one photograph.
Young.
Dark-haired.
Sleeves rolled up.
Ruby held it closer.
“You knew him.”
Claire took the picture.
“I’d forgotten this.”
Mr. Harris leaned over.
“He visited when Graves bought the property.”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded.
“He ate two plates of Eleanor’s rice.”
“That was arroz con pollo,” Mr. Harris said.
“I know what I cooked, Thomas.”
“You said Eleanor’s.”
“She helped.”
Claire laughed softly.
Ruby studied the photograph.
Nathaniel was standing beside Eleanor.
Between them was Claire.
Her mother could not have been much older than Ruby was now.
Something inside Ruby shifted.
People she knew as adults had existed long before her.
They had made promises.
Misunderstood one another.
Changed.
Forgotten things.
Kept other things.
At last Claire found a brown accordion folder marked ALDRIDGE CO-OP.
