He kissed her forehead, then followed the deputy outside.
Claire watched the car pull away.
“Do you hate her?” she asked.
Eleanor considered the question.
“I hate what she chose to do.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Can people come back from something like this?”
“Some people do.”
“Will she?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire looked at the empty driveway.
“I hope she does.”
“So do I.”
The house was quiet again.
Not the strained silence of the day before. This silence had room in it.
Miriam closed her folder.
“There is one more thing,” she said.
Eleanor turned.
Miriam reached into her bag and removed a slim envelope.
“I found this in the original mortgage file.”
Eleanor frowned.
“I thought we had gone through that.”
“We did. But the bank sent a supplemental scan yesterday.”
The envelope was addressed to Eleanor in handwriting she recognized immediately.
Her husband’s.
She had not seen it in thirty-two years.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Eleanor,
