I looked at Mom. She didn’t deny it.
“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Claire said. “I thought the blankets would mean something good.”
“And the card?”
“I promised I’d make them. I didn’t know that part of the promise hadn’t been kept.”
I sat down. The anger was still there, but now it had a face, and that face looked like mine.
“I need some time,” I told her.
“I understand. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little more.”
Before hanging up, she added, “There is something else. Your mother should tell you about the letters.”
I turned toward Mom.
“What letters?”
She looked startled. “Claire knows about those?”
“Apparently.”
Mom rose slowly. “I need to show you something.”
She led me to her bedroom, where an old cedar chest sat beneath the window. Mom took a key from her jewelry box and opened a narrow drawer built into the chest’s base.
