The local diner was nearly empty at eight o’clock, the vinyl booths smelling of maple syrup and grease. The diner was called The Copper Kettle, a place where Julian and I used to go on Thursday nights when he was still establishing his pediatric practice. The vinyl booth had a patch of gray duct tape over a tear in the corner, and Julian sat across from me, his bare wedding ring finger looking pale and thin under the fluorescent lights. He rubbed the empty spot where his gold band used to sit, his eyes avoiding mine as he stared at his untouched mug of black coffee.
“You need to stop digging into the old family files, Clara,” Julian said, his voice soft and hesitant.
I took a slow sip of my water, watching the way his shoulders curved inward.
“What files, Julian?”
“Victoria called me this afternoon,” he said, leaning forward over the laminate table, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. “She said you’ve been going through Mother’s things, acting unstable again.”
“I was helping Mother pack her winter clothes,” I said. “There is nothing unstable about folding quilts.”
“She’s worried about you, and frankly, so am I,” Julian said, his hand dropping back to his lap. “You can’t keep looking for things that aren’t there.”
“I found something of yours in Mother’s closet, Victoria, and I think we need to talk,” I murmured, testing the phrase under my breath, though my sister was miles away in her high-rise downtown.
“What did you say?” Julian asked, his brow furrowing.
“Nothing,” I said, sliding my hands into my coat pockets where the cold plastic of the beige drive rested against my thumb. “Did Victoria say anything else?”
“She said you’ve been asking the neighbors about the night Grandmother died,” Julian said. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and exhaustion that made my throat tight. “Just leave it alone, Clara. For everyone’s sake.”
I did not answer him, and the silence stretched between us until the waitress brought the check, the paper slip sliding onto the table between us. Julian reached for his wallet, his fingers lingering on the leather, but I had already set down a twenty-dollar bill.
