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A delivery label was still stuck to the torn cardboard.
Below the shipping information was a contact number.
Hawaii.
I reached for my phone.
Mom saw what I was doing.
“Annie.”
Mom saw what I was doing.
“Someone there thinks Dad just got his chair back.”
Her eyes went to the number.
I dialed.
It rang four times.
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Then an older woman answered.
“Hello?”
“Someone there thinks Dad just got his chair back.”
I looked at Dad’s name carved beneath the blue seat.
“My name is Annie.” My voice nearly failed me. “I’m Gilbert’s daughter.”
There was a long silence.
Then the woman whispered, “Gilbert had a daughter?”
For a second, I couldn’t answer.
“Yes,” I said. “He did.”
