Even saying the words silently felt impossible.
Just thirty hours earlier, she had been presenting quarterly reports in Seattle while texting Daniel about what they should cook for dinner when she got home. He had sent a laughing emoji and complained about the broken coffee machine. Nothing about that conversation sounded like a goodbye.
But now she was racing toward a cemetery instead of home.
The driver slowed as they approached a white tent surrounded by folding chairs. Claire felt relief for exactly two seconds — until she noticed people were already leaving. Chairs were being stacked. Flowers were being gathered. The service was over.
Her heart dropped.
She jumped out before the car fully stopped, suitcase rolling behind her across the gravel path.
The grave was fresh.
