She looked down at the recipe card.
“I know that sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.”
Claire wiped her face.
“Dad knew.”
Take Aaron to Franklin Field. Bring the glove.
Saturday Two was harder.
The envelope said:
Take Aaron to Franklin Field. Bring the glove.
The old baseball glove had been included with Mr. Vance’s belongings for Aaron.
The second Aaron saw it, his jaw tightened.
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
Aaron pointed at the glove.
“Aaron.”
“No. I’m not doing some sentimental scavenger hunt.”
Noah stayed quiet.
Aaron pointed at the glove.
“Do you know what makes this ridiculous?”
“No,” Noah said.
Aaron laughed without humor.
Aaron looked toward Mr. Vance’s empty house across the street.
“My son, Ben, played Little League at Franklin Field for five years.”
His voice sharpened.
“I invited Dad constantly.”
Claire said softly, “I know.”
“He always had an excuse.”
“Dad couldn’t come watch his own grandson play ball.”
