Chapter 8
“Once, I asked her who it was with her in the photo. ‘An old friend,’ was all she said.
“‘Is that why you’re crying? Because you miss her?’ I asked.
“‘Yes.’
“‘Can’t she come to visit?’
“‘She lives far away in America.’
“That’s all I got from my mother at the time. But later, when I was older and ready to explore the world outside our tiny island, that’s when I learned the woman in the photo was Miss Baxter.”
“And that’s when you came to live here at her boarding house?”
“Yes.” Moona paused. “Yesterday, at the hotel, I saw the old photograph again. And I saw the same tear in the corner of my mother’s eye. I asked her if she had any more pictures, now that I knew it was Miss Baxter.”
“Did she?”
“Some. Mostly the pictures were of them together at parties. I swear my mom looked a little bit tipsy in more than a few, but I’ve never seen her touch a drop of anything stronger than tea.”
I let out a short laugh.
“What?”