A few people laughed softly.
“So here’s to new codes,” Lauren said, lifting her glass toward me. “And to only giving them to people who earn them.”
“To new codes,” everyone said.
Later that night, after the dishes were done and the guests had gone home and Ben and Hannah had gone to bed in the spare room, I found Lauren sitting alone on the cedar bench under the maple tree.
She was wrapped in one of my old quilts, looking up at the bare branches against the stars.
I sat down beside her.
“Cold out here,” I said.
“I know. I like it, though.” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Mom?”
“Hm?”
“Do you ever think about him?”
I thought about the question honestly.
“Sometimes,” I said. “Not the way I used to. I used to think about him constantly. What he was thinking. Whether he was upset. Whether I’d done something wrong. My whole day used to revolve around predicting his mood.”
