As Claire came in from the kitchen, she saw her daughter on the couch thumbing through an old photo album. “Good lord, where’d you find that?” she asked. “I’ve been looking for it off and on for years. I thought we’d lost it.”
“It was right there in the bookshelf,” Kate said. “Top shelf.”
“Hiding in plain sight, huh?” Claire walked over, sat down and looked over her daughter’s shoulder. It was a sepia-toned wedding photo of the groom seated, the bride standing by him, and the best man and maid of honor at their sides. “You know,” she said after a moment, “I have no idea who that is.”
“Well, it looks like it was taken around the turn of the century,” Claire said, “so if I had to guess, it might be your great-grandparents, although it could be your great-granduncle or something. That album was my mom’s, but I don’t recall us ever going through it. They’re relation of some kind.”
“That guy behind the groom looks just like Ryan,” Kate said.
“Huh,” Claire said, seeing the resemblance to her son. Same nose, same eyes. “Sure does. Almost spooky.”
Later that night, Claire went back to the album and started looking through it. She kept coming back to the picture Kate had asked about. She sighed. They were family, that much was sure, but since her mother had passed, no one would ever know who they were.