I closed my eyes.
Of course she had.
Mara smiled.
“Eleanor hired her three months later.”
“That also sounds like Mom.”
“There’s more,” Harlan said.
He gestured toward the letters.
I reached for the first bundle.
The top envelope was addressed in Eleanor’s handwriting.
June,
If this renovation ever happens, I suspect Harlan will try to finish it without asking anyone for help.
This is one of his more exhausting qualities.
Harlan sighed.
“My mother was opinionated.”
I kept reading.
Only a little.
Enough to understand the letters were not business correspondence.
They were friendship.
Recipes.
Arguments.
Updates about children.
Plans.
Disappointments.
Apologies.
Life.
Then I found a sealed envelope beneath them.
The paper was newer than the others.
My name was written across the front.
RUE.
My hands shook.
“That’s Mom’s handwriting.”
Neither Harlan nor Mara moved.
I opened it.
Inside were four pages.
I managed only the first lines.
