I stared at her.
That was true.
As a child, I’d refused to sleep until my mother sang it three times.
She’d pretend to complain, but she always did.
That was true.
“Clementine told you that?”
Carol nodded.
“She said your mother would be proud of the woman you’d become.”
It was my turn to become teary-eyed.
For years, my MIL had behaved as though only her family mattered.
It was my turn to become teary-eyed.
“Why did you need to know about the song?” I asked.
My husband’s mother glanced at the box.
“Because I wanted to make something right.”
I shook my head.
“You still haven’t explained what you gave Daniel.”
“I will.”
“I wanted to make something right.”
She looked nervous.
“But first, you need to understand why it mattered.”
Carol pointed toward the wooden box.
“Michael bought what’s inside when we’d been married for one year.”