My 76-year-old grandpa spent years sewing quilts and selling them at a flea market so I could walk again — then one day, a gruff biker showed up and said, “I’ve been looking for you for 20 years.”

don’t like what I’m asking.”

“We should talk at home, Maisie. Come on, sweetheart.”

“No. You’ll edit the story once we’re home, and I won’t know what got left out.”

Cole nodded once. “She’s right.”

I spread the pages across the table.

“Tessa, take pictures.”

Grandpa stepped forward. “She will do no such thing.”

Tessa froze.

I turned to her. “You promised you’d continue reading …