Then she placed Mom’s envelope on the table.
Annie leaned toward me.
“Is she going to open it?”
“I think so.”
Grace looked at us.
“This was written to me.”
I nodded.
“You don’t have to read it out loud.”
Her eyes softened.
“Thank you.”
She picked up the envelope and walked into Arthur’s library.
Alone.
Nobody followed.
We waited.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Arthur paced once across the kitchen.
Helen told him to stop.
He sat.
Mrs. Alvarez finally reheated the hot chocolate.
Annie drank hers.
I couldn’t.
After nearly half an hour, Grace returned.
She had been crying.
Not the frightening kind.
Quiet tears.
The kind that seemed to leave more room inside a person afterward.
She sat beside us.
Annie immediately hugged her.
Grace held her for a long moment.
“What did Mom say?” I asked.
Grace looked at the envelope.
“A lot.”
