She talked about the family dinners where Daniel had made everyone laugh.
And she talked about her mother's insistence that people deserved more than the worst thing that had happened to them.
After the service, Simone stood beside the grave.
Her mother was buried near Daniel.
The cemetery was quiet.
Abigail approached and took her aunt's hand.
"Are you okay?"
Simone gave a tired smile.
"Not yet."
Abigail squeezed her fingers.
"That's allowed."
Simone looked at her.
Then she laughed softly through her tears.
"Your father would've said that."
"I know."
They stood together until the last visitors had gone.
Several years later, Simone received a letter from the daughter of Bradley Matthews.
Her name was Emily.
She had been a teenager when her father was convicted.
For years, she had avoided discussions of the case.
She had resented Simone.
She had resented the reporters who camped outside the family home.
She had resented the classmates who repeated jokes about her father.
And she had resented the fact that his actions seemed to become part of her identity.
As an adult, Emily studied social work.
Her career brought her into contact with families affected by incarceration, addiction, and institutional failures.
She learned to separate responsibility from inheritance.
One person's wrongdoing did not automatically make their children guilty.
But loving someone did not require denying what they had done.
Her letter was carefully written.
She did not ask Simone to forgive her father.
She did not request a meeting.
She did not defend his conduct.
Instead, she described her own struggle to understand the past.
When I was younger, I believed you had destroyed our family. I know now that my father's decisions caused the consequences we lived with. I am sorry for the things I said about you when I was angry and afraid.
Simone read the letter twice.
Then she placed it on her desk.
She considered leaving it unanswered.
That would have been entirely reasonable.
But something about Emily's willingness to take responsibility for her own words moved her.
Several days later, Simone wrote a brief response.
Thank you for your letter. You were a child when these events happened, and you were not responsible for your father's actions. I hope you have a good life defined by your own choices, relationships, and work.
She did not add a promise of friendship.
She did not offer to meet.
She did not discuss Matthews's punishment.
She mailed the letter.
Then she returned to her ordinary responsibilities.
It was enough.
By the time Simone turned sixty-five, her professional life had begun to slow.
She retired from regular advisory work.
She kept a small number of commitments that interested her.
She spent more time gardening.
She traveled occasionally with friends.
She attended school performances by her grandnieces and grandnephews.
And she became surprisingly enthusiastic about repairing old furniture.