Rebecca stood near the entryway, looking damp and fragile, as if she didn’t know if she was allowed to step onto our carpet.

Caroline walked straight to the sofa and sat down.

She laid the yellowed envelope on the dark wood of the coffee table.

The red wax seal seemed to catch the light from the lamp.

“Are you ready, Caroline?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

Caroline did not answer immediately.

She looked at the seal, then at me, her analytical mind processing everything she had just learned.

She slid her fingers under the lip of the heavy paper, right beneath the hardened red wax.

With a sharp, dry snap, the seal broke.

Caroline pulled the folded sheets of heavy cream paper from the envelope.

Two smaller, stiffer documents with blue backing fell out and landed on the dark wood of the coffee table.

She did not look at the blue documents first.

She unfolded the letter, using her thumb to pin the top edge down against her knee while her fingers smoothed the crease.

The handwriting was neat, slanted, and written in faded blue ink.