Chapter 17: What the Letter Said

The lawyer called me on Monday morning, before I had finished my coffee.

"There is a second envelope," he said.

"Your grandfather left it with me in a separate safe. It is addressed to Celia."

"I was told to give it to you."

"Why me?"

"His instructions say, and I quote, 'If she has burned anything, Toby opens it. Let him read it where she can't leave.'"

I looked at Hannah across the kitchen, and she put down her toast.

The Carrow Foundation board met at noon every other Monday.

The room had a long table and a portrait of my grandfather over the sideboard.

Ten people sat around it, and Celia sat at the far end in her pearls.

She had come in on her own cane, and she had not looked at me once since the wedding.

"Madam Chair," the lawyer said, to her, out of habit. "Mr. Carrow has a matter to put before the board."

"Sit down, Celia," I said.

She sat.

"There are loan papers for four hundred million dollars, signed with my grandfather's name."

"Lyle says he didn't sign them. I want to hear who did."

Nobody at the table moved.

"I've been told Lyle didn't sign them. I want to hear who did."

Celia stared at the portrait.

"You're upset," she said. "You have been unwell."

"The court said otherwise."

"I won't discuss family business in front of the board."

"Then I'll read you something instead."

I broke the seal and took out one sheet of heavy cream paper.

It was written in the cramped, upright hand from every birthday card of my childhood.

*Celia,*

*If Toby is reading this, you have done something you shouldn't and I was right to expect it.*

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