They found the ice cream stand.
But nobody working there remembered seeing Nora.
There was no useful camera footage.
No witness who could explain where she had gone.
Nothing.
The last thing Nora had been wearing was a turquoise beach cover-up my mother had sewn for her that spring.
It was made of lightweight cotton and loose enough to wear over a swimsuit.
Inside the bottom hem, my mother had embroidered Nora’s initials.
N.V.
On the first day of that vacation, Nora caught one corner of the fabric on a piece of driftwood and tore it.
My mother repaired the damage herself.
But instead of trying to hide the patch, she stitched a tiny yellow sun over it.
The sun was slightly crooked.
Nora laughed when she saw it.
“It looks weird now.”
My mother smiled.
“It looks one of a kind.”
Nora rubbed the stitching between her fingers.
