"I don't know yet," I said.
"But I think I need to go back and talk to Mr.
Hale."
My mother nodded.
She didn't try to stop me.
She just held my hand a little tighter.
I left an hour later.
I was almost at my car when my phone buzzed.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*We need to talk before you speak to Hale again.
There are things about Eleanor's estate you don't know.
Things that won't wait.
— R*
I stood in the driveway and read it twice.
I had no idea who R was.
The Person Eleanor Never Mentioned
I called the number back immediately.
It rang four times.
Then a woman's voice — clipped, careful, not unfriendly but not warm either.
"I wasn't sure you'd call," she said.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Ruth Calloway.
I was Eleanor's neighbor for eleven years.
Before she moved into the hospice." A brief pause.
"I was also the person she trusted with the other envelope."
I stopped walking.
"What other envelope?"
"The one she didn't give to Mr.
Hale." Ruth's voice dropped slightly.
"The one she asked me to hold until after the funeral.
Until after she knew whether you'd been told."
My free hand found the roof of my car.
"How do you know I've been told?"
"Because Mr.
Hale called me an hour ago.
He said it went as Eleanor hoped." Another pause.
"She prepared for both possibilities.
That's the kind of woman she was."
I had known Eleanor for two years.
I had sat with her twice a week.
