Documents he would quickly put away whenever I entered.
“What are you working on?” I asked one afternoon.
“Just tidying up some old paperwork.”
“I’m not worried.”
He smiled.
“I’m only making sure every line is airtight.”
“About what?”
He pulled me gently into his arms.
“You’ll always be safe, Eleanor. No matter what those two think of me.”
I noticed the seriousness in his voice.
I should have asked more questions.
I didn’t.
Instead, I allowed myself to enjoy the months we had together.
Winter slowly gave way to spring.
And for a little while, I believed the storm outside our bedroom door would never come inside.
I was wrong.
The Day Garrett Died
It happened on a Tuesday morning.
Garrett was sitting at the kitchen table.
He poured himself coffee.
Reached for the newspaper.
Then suddenly, his hand went to his chest.
He looked at me with an expression of complete surprise.
As though he had just remembered something important.
Then he collapsed.
The heart attack came without warning.
By the time help arrived, my husband was gone.
Just like that.
The man I had waited 53 years to find again was suddenly gone.
At the cemetery, the wind cut through the black dress I wore.
Margaret stood across the grave.
Her face was dry.
Her expression cold.
And somehow, I already knew the worst was still coming.
I just didn’t know how soon.
“Get Out.”
We had barely returned to the mansion when Margaret found me in the front room.
She was holding a stack of stapled papers.
“Get out.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The house is in our family trust. It has been for years. Daddy signed everything. Your name isn’t on a single line.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re asking me to leave?”
She looked at me coldly.
“You’ve embarrassed our mother’s memory long enough.”
Daniel walked into the room carrying my old brown suitcase.
He placed it on the floor.
I stared at him.
“Please,” I whispered. “At least let me take his photograph.”
“The one from the mantel?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Margaret’s answer was immediate.
“Nothing in this house belongs to you.”
I looked at Daniel.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
The trust, she said, was very clear.
So I picked up my suitcase.
I was still wearing the black dress I’d worn to bury my husband.
And I walked out the front door.
I didn’t have a home anymore.
