“I loved that you sang harmony even when nobody else was singing.”
“I loved that you hated my tomato plants but defended them from squirrels like they were your children.”
“I loved you.”
“The debt was history.”
“You were my wife.”
I started crying.
Frank had always complained about me reading endings first.
He used to hide new novels until I promised not to cheat.
The letter blurred.
Then came the part that made me angry all over again.
“I should have told Brad and Stephanie.”
“They knew their mother’s family had helped us financially when we were young, but they never knew about June.”
“When they started accusing you of wanting the house, I should have told them exactly whose sacrifice helped us keep it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Linda wanted the story kept private while she was alive because she felt ashamed that we had never repaid your mother completely.”
“After Linda died, I kept quiet because I had already kept quiet for so long.”
“Cowardice becomes habit surprisingly easily.”
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Frank too.
Mr. Delgado slid a glass of water toward me.
“What happens with the house?”
He opened another folder.
That was when I learned Frank had changed his will four months earlier.
The house was not mine.
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Mr. Delgado looked surprised.
“Sorry.”
I wiped my eyes.
“It’s just… 11 years.”
Brad and Stephanie had spent 11 years accusing me of marrying their father for a house I wasn’t even inheriting.
“What did he do with it?”
Mr. Delgado answered.
Frank had left the property equally to Brad, Stephanie, and me.
One-third each.
But there was a condition.
Nobody could force a sale for two years.
My smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because Frank wanted you to have time.”
“For what?”
Mr. Delgado handed me the final document.
An appraisal.
Then another piece of paper.
Frank had calculated what my mother’s 25% property interest would have been worth if the original agreement had been honored.
With appreciation, it was considerably more than one-third.
I stared at the number.
“Frank considered this your family’s unpaid share.”
“He owed my mother, not me.”
“Legally, the original agreement would be difficult to enforce after this much time.”
“I’m not asking legally.”
Mr. Delgado nodded.
“Neither was Frank.”
The locked box was not about giving me more.
It was about giving me proof.
Frank had written one final instruction.
