At my daughter Allison’s funeral, her husband Derek’s mistress leaned in close, wearing the exact silver bracelet I’d given Allison the day her baby was born, and breathed two cold, triumphant words straight into my ear: “I won.”

Today is Chloe's sixth birthday.

The backyard is full of sunflowers—taller than me now, a whole field of them, golden and bright, turning their faces toward the Texas sun. There's a bounce house. A pony. A clown making balloon animals. Twenty of Chloe's closest friends from kindergarten, screaming and running and eating cake with blue frosting all over their faces.

Officer Ruiz is manning the grill, wearing an apron that says "BEST NANNY EVER." Benjamin is chasing a group of kids around the patio, pretending to be a monster. Detective Marquez is sitting in a lawn chair, drinking lemonade, off duty for the day, laughing as the clown tries to make her a balloon flower.

I'm standing in the middle of the sunflower circle, watching Chloe. She's wearing a yellow dress with sunflowers on it, her hair in two braids, a crown of daisies on her head. She's laughing so hard she can barely breathe as the pony carries her around the yard.

She looks just like Allison.

I still miss her. Every single day. I miss her voice. I miss her laugh. I miss the way she'd call me at ten o'clock at night just to talk about nothing. I miss watching her with Chloe. I would give every dollar I have, every business, every house, every award, just to have one more day with her.

But I know she's here.

I can feel her in the sun on my face. In the sound of Chloe's laughter. In the wind blowing through the sunflower field, making the heads nod as if in agreement.

She won.

Not Derek. Not Vanessa. Not the money or the lies or the terrible secrets. She won. Because her daughter is alive. Her daughter is happy. Her daughter is loved. And her legacy—Hale Designs, the shelter, the hundreds of people whose lives she touched—grows stronger every single day.

Chloe sees me standing in the circle and breaks away from her friends. She runs toward me, her yellow dress flapping, her braids flying, and throws her arms around my legs.

"Grammy! Grammy! Come see! The clown made me a sunflower balloon! Look!"

She holds it up. It's lopsided and too big and the petals are all wrong, but it's perfect.

"I see it, baby," I say, kneeling down to hug her. "It's the most beautiful sunflower I've ever seen."

"Just like Mommy's sunflowers?"

"Just like Mommy's."

She leans in and whispers in my ear, "I talked to Mommy today. I told her I love her. And I told her I love you too. More than all the sunflowers in the whole world."

I hold her tighter, tears streaming down my face, and I look up at the sky.

*"I love you too, baby,"* I whisper to Allison. "We're okay. We're finally okay."

Somewhere, a breeze blows. The sunflowers nod.