I crossed into the kitchen, picked up my phone from the counter, and dialed my sister Margaret. She answered on the second ring.
“Deb?”
“Margaret, I need you here. Now.”
“What happened?”
“That thing I asked you to quietly look into a few months back. Bring all of it. Bring whatever you have on property law and divorce too, just in case. I’ll explain everything once you get here. Please just drive, don’t ask me questions yet.”
There was a pause on the line, the particular kind of pause only a sister truly understands.
“So you finally know,” Margaret said softly.
“I finally know.”
“I’m already in the car. Give me twenty minutes.”
I hung up, walked back down the hall to the office, and stood looking at the framed deed for a long moment. A small, unfamiliar smile touched the corner of my mouth, and I realized, almost with surprise, that it was the first entirely honest expression my face had managed all morning.
