There was one more thing to say. I said it kindly. But I said it.
Sorry is where you start. It doesn’t put things back the way they were.
“The table stays here, Stephanie. It was a loan, and I’m calling it in. You’ll have one of your own. There’s a sale somewhere every Saturday, and I’ll go to every one of them with you till we find it. But this one lives in this house. And you have a place at it any day of your life you want one.”
She nodded.
She didn’t argue. I think she was relieved.
“Come see something,” Dylan said from the doorway.
He took his mother into the dining room. He turned over the fifth chair.
She read it.
Steph’s. Reglued 11-89. She leans back.
She put her fingers on her father’s pencil marks. And she made a sound I hadn’t heard out of her since his funeral.
Then Dylan turned over his own chair. She read that one too.
Dylan. Reglued 2019. So does he.
And she pulled that tall boy’s head down onto her shoulder and held on.
Mrs. Lindquist had come to stand beside me. She ran her hand along the back of the nearest chair.
“Pressed backs,” she said. “My mother had these.”
Then, not looking at me: “It’s a hard thing, giving up your table. I ought to have known one when I was sitting at it.”
“Arlene,” I said.
It was the first time I’d used her name.
“Take your coat off. I’ve got coffee, and you’ve got pie.”
We sat down again, the five of us, at one end of a ten-foot table with the leaves still in.
Arlene cut the sour cream raisin. It was the best I have ever put in my mouth, and I told her so. She told me my dressing recipe wasn’t leaving that house without her. Curt ate two turkey sandwiches standing up in the kitchen, like a man who hadn’t had a proper dinner.
Stephanie sat in her own chair.
About halfway through her pie, she leaned back in it.
Nobody said a word.
Dylan looked at me. I looked at Dylan.
Specialty: Quiet Comebacks & Personal Justice
David Reynolds focuses on stories where underestimated individuals regain control of their lives. His writing centers on measured decisions rather than dramatic outbursts — emphasizing preparation, patience, and the long game. His characters don’t shout; they act.