Chapter 4 — The Photograph Was More Important Than Robert Realized
Robert looked again at the damaged photograph.
“Can we replace it?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Not exactly.”
The image mattered because Evelyn, Rachel’s grandmother, had died when Rachel was nine.
Rachel remembered her.
But only in pieces.
Her perfume.
Her laugh.
The way she peeled apples in one long spiral.
That photograph was one of the few images showing four generations of the family together.
Evelyn.
Helen.
Rachel.
And Rachel’s brother Michael.
The photograph had sat in Helen’s living room for decades.
When Helen moved to a smaller house, she gave it to Rachel.
Robert borrowed it only because he wanted the restored enlargement to be a surprise.
“Mom doesn’t know you have it?” Rachel asked.
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
“And now there’s permanent marker across it.”
Robert looked miserable.
“Yes.”
Rachel sighed.
Then Ava suddenly asked:
“Can someone fix pictures?”
Rachel looked toward her.
“Sometimes.”
“Like Grandpa fixes chairs?”
Robert almost smiled.
Rachel picked up the photograph carefully.
“Maybe.”
She called the restoration studio Robert had already contacted.
The owner, Nina Patel, asked them to bring the photo immediately.
“Don’t rub it anymore.”
Robert looked guilty.
“Too late.”
“How much did you rub?”
“Enough to make that question uncomfortable.”
Nina sighed.
“Bring it.”
Twenty minutes later, Rachel, Ava, and Robert were driving toward the studio.
Nobody spoke much.
Then Ava asked from the back seat:
“Is Grandma Helen going to be mad?”
Robert answered:
“Probably.”
“At me?”
Robert immediately turned.
“No.”
Then more firmly:
“Not at you.”
Ava looked toward him.
Robert said:
“I will tell her exactly what happened.”
That was the first thing he could do correctly.