Where did you get that ring

front door slammed hard enough to rattle the family photos on the wall.

For a long time, none of us moved.

My mother cried into her hands.

My father stared at the fireplace.

I looked at the family portrait above the mantel.

Vivian in the center, smiling like a pageant queen.

Me on the side, angled slightly backward, wearing a navy dress I had hated because continue reading …