No idea that an unopened envelope had been waiting six years for Grace.
And certainly no idea that the suspicious old man staring through the gate already knew our name.
What I understand now is that Arthur hadn’t memorized our address because he was watching us.
He knew it because for years it had sat inside a file he could never bring himself to close.
Frank Foster.
Laura Foster.
Grace.
Caleb.
Annie.
A family attached to a mistake he could not undo.
When Annie and I appeared at his gate, Arthur didn’t recognize us at first.
Not until I said our sister’s name.
Then everything returned.
The letters.
Dad.
The apology never properly delivered.
The offer Grace refused.
Eleanor asking him, years earlier, whether there were some wrongs money could not repair.
That was why he went silent when I asked how he knew where we lived.
