“You said you didn’t know he was sick. How did he send it?”
“Through a courier. He left it with instructions that it be delivered only to me.”
“What could be inside?”
“Possibly a business document. A property record. A personal letter.”
“Or?”
Gabriel was quiet.
“Or something that explains why he changed the will so suddenly.”
I remembered the first line of my father’s letter.
If you are reading this, then I was not given the time I hoped for.
I had assumed he meant the illness. Now I wondered if he had been waiting for something else.
Gabriel placed the envelope in front of me.
“I can call the attorney and have her come here tomorrow.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I want to open it now.”
“Matthew—”
“I’m tired of adults deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
The words came out sharper than I intended. Rosa reached for my hand, but I didn’t look away from Gabriel.
“My father wrote it for me. If there’s something inside about me, I want to see it.”
Gabriel studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“All right.”
He took a small letter opener from the folder. The blade glinted briefly in the sunlight.
Before he touched the envelope, a vehicle slowed outside the house.
All three of us turned toward the window.
A dark sedan had stopped near the mailbox.
I recognized it immediately.
Veronica stepped out.
She was wearing the same black dress from the funeral, though she had removed her jacket. Her face looked pale and tired, and she held a leather handbag against her chest.
Gabriel stood.
Rosa moved closer to me.
Veronica looked through the window at the four of us, her eyes settling on the unopened envelope.
For the first time since she had abandoned me, I saw something besides coldness in her expression.
Fear.
She came to the front door and knocked once.
No one moved.
Then she knocked again.
“Matthew,” she called through the glass. “Please let me explain.”
Gabriel’s hand remained over the envelope.
Veronica looked directly at him.
“You must not open that,” she said.
The room fell silent.
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“How do you know what it is?”
Veronica’s lips parted, but no answer came.
I stood slowly.
“What is inside?”
She looked at me, and the fear in her face deepened.
“Your father lied to you,” she whispered.
Gabriel stepped toward the door.
“About what?”
Veronica’s eyes returned to the envelope.
“About your mother.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
My father’s letter had said that my mother loved me. It had said I was never the cause of the adults’ disagreements. It had said nothing about a lie.
Veronica lowered her voice.
“Alexander told you she died when you were five.”
I could barely breathe.
“She did die.”
Veronica shook her head.
“No, Matthew. She disappeared.”
Behind me, Gabriel went completely still.
Veronica placed one hand against the glass.
“And your father knew exactly where she was.”
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