Nine years after my husband passed away, I thought romance was over for me. Then a man from my past returned, remembering details only we should have known. I nearly married him—until a woman entered the ceremony with an envelope, and Harold’s smile vanished.
Nine years after my husband died, I believed romance was over for me.
Then Harold called and used the name only Daniel had used when he wanted my full attention.
"Margaret?"
I laughed.
We had known each other in high school, though not closely.
"I haven’t been called by my first name in almost fifty years."
"I know," he said. "I just wanted to make sure I had the right girl."
He said he got my number from the alumni committee while helping with a memorial page for classmates we had lost. We had known each other in high school, though not closely. I remembered him as one of those boys who always looked older than he was.
