Claire had been watching from across the room. She came over now with Marcus a half-step behind her, and Owen was introduced properly. Claire looked at him with her mother’s eyes, steady, measuring, but not unkind. She extended her hand. “Thank you for coming,” she said.
Helen and Richard moved onto the floor. For the first dance. Helen had worried whether she could be fully present in it, or grief would pull at her the way it sometimes did. Richard pulled her close and put his lips near her ear. “He’d have cut in by now,” he said quietly, “just to embarrass you.” Helen laughed suddenly, and the worry dissolved.