I lost my wife the day our triplets were born—ten years later, we found a box on our porch labeled, “To my beautiful daughters. Love, Mom.”

ever met you.”

The girls sat quietly with Cleo’s letters in their laps.

Then Ivy looked toward the birthday cake still sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Dad?” she asked softly.

“Can we take some to Mrs. Hargrove next door?”

I blinked. “Why?”

The girls sat quietly with Cleo’s letters in their laps.

Ivy shrugged.

“Mom said lonely people shouldn’t always have continue reading …