My grandfather said it casually over Christmas dinner, smiling at me from across my parents’ dining table as though he were referring to a photograph I had shown him years ago.
I stopped with my fork halfway to my plate. “What fireplace?” Grandpa Walter’s smile faded. “The one in your house.” For a moment, I thought I had missed part of the conversation. My mother, Caroline,… My grandfather said it casually over Christmas dinner, smiling at me from across my parents’ dining table as though he were referring to a photograph I had shown him years ago.









