The carriage came to a sudden stop on the muddy Manhattan street. A boy got out of the carriage clutching something tightly to his chest. Carefully he knocked on the door of the building hoping he had the right address. A gray haired woman cam to the door.

"Mrs. McArthur?"

"Yes?" Mrs. McArthur became confused at how this boy knew her.

"Hi. I'm Matthew Keller. I was a friend of your daughter while she was The Cottages." Mrs. McArthur's hand went up to her mouth in shock.

"How long has she been dead?"

"Since Christmas Eve." Specs stepped further into the light of the foyer removing his hat.

"That's nearly six months ago. Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?"

"I wanted to be the one to tell you when I brought you this." Specs handed the worn blue journal to Mrs. McArthur. Tears filled her eyes as she flipped threw it. "It's full of letters that Clara wrote to her daughter. It was her dying wish for me to bring it here."

"Thank you so much for bringing it." Specs began to turn to leave when an idea popped into Mrs. McArthur's head. "Wait. You must be famished after such a long trip. Please stay for supper."

"No. I wouldn't want to impose."

"Pleas stay. It's the least I can do to thank you for bringing back Clara's journal." Before Specs could answer, a little girl came running down the hall on wobbly legs.

"Grammy! Grammy!" The little girl stooped next to her grandmother when she noticed Specs. She walked over to Specs and pulled on his black pant leg. "Up! Up!"

Specs bent down and picked up the girl. "Is this Leah?" He asked tickling the little girl's

Side. She giggled in delight.

"Yes it is. She looks exactly like her mother."

Smiling to himself, Specs replied, "That she does. That she does."