The color photo of Gavin and his younger sister, Rosalind Donohue Parsons, lay on the kitchen table in the Donohue home. In the photo Dad and Aunt Rosie sat together at a round table covered with a bright blue tablecloth. A centerpiece of balloons and flowers dominated the right side of the image. Behind them hung a banner announcing 1979 and HAPPY GRADUATION. Gavin wore a black graduation gown, open to reveal a dark blue suit with a wide green-and-blue-plaid tie. His long hair touched his shoulders. He was smiling and his arm was cast over Aunt Rosie’s shoulder. She was wearing a flowered dress, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, yet her bangs were overpuffed and shadowing her face. Her blue eye shadow was the brightest thing in the photo.

Colleen dialed Aunt Rosie’s number, and she knew the drill—Aunt Rosie, Dad’s only sibling, would answer the phone and then call for Uncle Fred before placing the call on speakerphone. Together they would scream into the receiver while the radio or TV blared in the background.

“Hello?” Aunt Rosie’s pack-a-day deep voice was warmly familiar to Colleen.

“Aunt Rosie, it’s Colleen.”

“My lovely Lena. Let me get your uncle. He will be devastated to think he missed a chance to talk to you.”

The predictability of her aunt’s reaction cheered Colleen. She settled back in the chair and glanced around the family kitchen. It sure could use some updating, but why bother? Wasn’t it fine as it was? She thought of the man she’d met at the bar—Beckett—and what he would think of people’s constant desire to throw out the old in favor of the new.

Then Rosie and Fred were both on the phone, hollering their greetings. Colleen explained the memory book they were making as a surprise for Gavin’s birthday, and asked if they would help.

Rosie spoke up first. “Your brother told me your dad is having some memory problems. Is he okay, Lena?”

“Oh, Aunt Rosie. He is having problems. That’s part of the reason for the memory book. But we’re managing it, getting him the best help.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine, my dear. No one in our family suffers from memory issues. We all meet our maker in other ways.”

Uncle Fred cleared his throat and let out what was probably a laugh but sounded more like a coughing fit. “Go on, then,” he said. “What can we do for you? We’re very excited we’ll see you soon.”

Colleen described the photo as best she could, and then waited.