“Because your father asked us to.”
“Why?”
“After Claire left.”
“Left where?”
“Town.”
“So she didn’t disappear.”
“No.”
“Why did Harlow think she had?”
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
“Harlow?”
Stephen spoke for the first time.
“I found her name in old company records.”
Margaret’s face drained.
“You’re from Harlow.”
“I work there.”
She pushed her chair back slightly.
“Aunt Margaret—”
“Your father was right.”
“About what?”
She looked at me.
“Nothing good ever came from that place knowing too much about our family.”
I tried to remain calm.
“What happened to Claire?”
Margaret stared at the window.
“For years, I thought she was dead.”
A chill went through me.
“Thought?”
“She left without saying goodbye. Your father told us she needed to disappear for her own protection.”
Stephen leaned forward.
“Protection from whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he ever say?”
“No.”
Margaret’s gaze returned to me.
“Then, eleven years ago, I received a Christmas card.”
