of the past where she was the only injured person.
“Mom,” I said slowly, “what did Dad promise?”
Her eyes shone, but she refused to let tears fall.
“He promised that family came first.”
Emma lowered the letter.
“And was my mother family?”
The question was quiet.
It landed harder than anger.
Margaret looked at her then. Really looked at her. Not as the daughter-in-law she had diminished, not as an inconvenience, not as a threat in a cardigan with dishwater-red hands.
As Clara’s daughter.
Something in my mother’s face flickered.
Then it vanished.
“I don’t know what your mother was to him,” Margaret said.
The words were careful.
Too careful.
Jennifer stepped away from the desk. “Mother, don’t say another word.”
Samuel’s gaze moved to Jennifer.
“You know something.”
Jennifer’s lips pressed together.
Michael turned on her. “Jen?”
“I said don’t,” Jennifer snapped.
