Page 181 of Key West Homecoming

On Friday morning, the day Edmund was due to fly north, Rebecca settled him and Emma on the veranda with glasses of iced tea. Then she left them alone to have their talk.

Edmund reached into the pocket of his cardigan and took out an envelope.

It was an ordinary utility envelope with a window on the front and Florida Power and Light printed in the corner. Gloria M. Kendrick's name and a condominium address on Brickell showed through the window.

“You asked me what became of Gloria’s lists, and I told you I didn't know. That was true when I said it.” Edmund turned the envelope in his hands. “Rebecca found this in the lining of a suitcase I hadn’t properly emptied, which tells you something about my housekeeping.”

He handed it to Emma.

Gloria's careful handwriting ran down the back in blue ballpoint.

1. Cardinal on the rail two mornings running

2. The Erdrich. Did she finish it

3. Hurricane photograph on the wall at Max's

4. E's pelican joke. Not funny. Tell it anyway

5. The lime tree

Below the five items, written in a different pen and in a hand that had become less steady, was one more line.

Ask her if she’s happy.

Emma held the envelope with both hands.

She read the question once and then went back to the beginning. By the fourth time through the list, she could picture Gloria sitting at a kitchen table with the envelope beside her. She could imagine her grandmother adding things as she thought of them because she didn't trust herself to remember later.

“She never asked me,” Emma said. “The call always ended first.”

“It did.” Edmund folded his hands. “But I want to tell you what she did instead, because I know where your mind is going. You're going to think about how she wanted to ask and couldn't.”

Emma looked at him.

“There's another part of it that's true too. She asked me.”

“She asked you if I was happy?”

“Every few weeks. Usually in the kitchen when she was doing something with her hands so it wouldn't sound like a large question.” Edmund smiled faintly. “She'd say, ‘Do you think Em is happy?’ I'd tell her I didn't know because I'd never met you. Then she'd say she didn't know either. After that, we'd talk about something else and she'd go back to whatever she was doing.”

Emma looked down at the envelope.

“That's worse.”

“It isn't.”

“It feels worse.”

“I know it does, but I've been an old man in a chair for six weeks, so let me have the one useful thing I've got.”

Emma smiled despite the ache in her chest.

Edmund leaned forward.

“She didn't write that question because she was frightened for you. She wrote it down because she wanted to know the answer. Gloria had started forgetting things, so she made lists. That's what this is.” He nodded toward the envelope. “It's a woman keeping track of someone she loved.”

Emma ran her thumb over the edge of the paper.