“I know.”
“But I also understand why you thought you were helping.”
Marianne’s eyes filled.
“That’s kinder than I deserve.”
Mrs. Parker shook her head.
“Don’t turn this into a courtroom. We’re too old.”
That broke the tension.
They both laughed.
Before we left, Marianne asked us to wait.
She disappeared into her bedroom.
When she returned, she carried a small wooden box.
“I kept this.”
Mrs. Parker frowned.
Inside were six envelopes.
All yellowed.
All addressed to Eleanor Parker.
Mrs. Parker touched them without lifting one.
“You said seven.”
Marianne nodded.
“There were seven.”
“Where’s the last one?”
“I don’t know.”
Owen looked up immediately.
Marianne sighed.
“Of course you noticed.”
“What happened to it?”
“Thomas took it.”
Mrs. Parker’s eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“In 2002.”
“The night of the concert?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marianne hesitated.
“He said it was the only one that still mattered.”
Mrs. Parker looked down at the six envelopes.
