The banner read, “The Eleanor Albright Reading Garden.” Mr. Albright made a sound I will never forget, a small, broken sound like a door opening after a long time. I came around the car and offered my arm. He took it, and we walked slowly across the new grass while the crowd parted silently. A young woman in a green dress hurried toward us, wiping her eyes.

“Mr. Albright,” she said. “I am Dr. Priya Nair. Your wife taught me to read when I was seven years old.” She held up a wooden plaque with a small brass plate. “I have been looking for the old library site for three years. The city told me the owner never replied to a single letter.” Mr. Albright stared at the plaque.