Julia was speaking. “They were great men then, weren’t they, Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Hmmm?” Eliza felt very tired. Perhaps she was getting decrepit.
Ajax’s granddaughter had inherited Genevieve Pearl’s natural grace. She quietly took Eliza’s teacup, lifted a coverlet from a chair, and tucked the soft wool around her lap.
Eliza gazed up into alert brown eyes that shone with concern. She was a good child. Julia didn’t want her to go, but Eliza had waited five decades to see to her husband and son. She knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
“Thank you, dear. You mustn’t worry. I just need my rest.”
Morning sunlight glowed through the petals of the yellow roses next to Alexander’s bust. Joy filled Eliza at their fragile beauty.
There it was. Life. Perfect and nearly complete.
The End