Sophie’s voice wobbled as she began to read. “Dear Sophie, I have kept this set in my cedar chest for eleven years. A woman who loved me gave it to me, and it has never had one chip.” A murmur ran down the table. Courtney’s hand tightened on the stack of plates, and her mother leaned forward, staring at the cup Sophie lifted to the light. Nobody breathed.

Sophie read the next line more slowly. “Your mother has been hunting for this pattern for eight years, and I knew it. I knew something else too. Sophie, turn over the saucer in your hand.” Sophie flipped it. On the bottom, in faded ink, was a name and a date that made Courtney gasp aloud. Dennis stood so quickly that his chair tipped backward onto the floor.