He kissed my cheek. "The kind I don't want to ruin by talking too early." I rolled my eyes. "I hate surprise people."
"You married one."
"My greatest mistake."
Maisie rolled into the kitchen. "I heard Chinese food." Daniel put a hand over the bag. "Password."
"Daddy is handsome."
"Incorrect."
"Daddy is very handsome."
"Access granted."
She laughed. It was the last dinner the three of us ate together.
The following morning Daniel left for work as usual. He kissed me near the sink. He helped Maisie with her coat zipper. He complained that somebody had moved his truck keys, then discovered them in his own pocket.
Nothing felt significant. That is one of grief's cruelties. The final ordinary morning never announces itself. Around four in the afternoon, Daniel called me from work.
"I'm stopping by Ray's shop tonight."
My first reaction was irritation. "Again?"
"Just for an hour. Maybe two. Rebecca can meet us there and I need to sign off on some measurements."
"Daniel, you're exhausted."
"I know."
"You were up until midnight."
"I know."
"Can it wait?"
There was a pause.
"I don't want it to."
The answer annoyed me more than it should have.
"Fine."
"Sarah."
"What?"
"I'm not blowing you off."
"It feels like you are."
Another pause.
"I'm trying to finish something."
I looked toward the dining room where Maisie was doing homework.
"Then finish it."
Those were the last irritated words I ever said to my husband. I spent months punishing myself for them. Daniel heard the edge in my voice and answered gently.