The paper was thick, slightly damp from the night air, and the glue on the flap was still fresh enough to stick to my thumb.

I stood in the hallway for a long moment, the hum of Rebecca’s car engine fading down the gravel driveway.

“Is she gone?” Caroline asked, her voice steady but quiet behind me.

I turned to look at her.

She was standing under the yellow hallway light, her empty left sleeve pinned neatly to her shoulder, her right hand resting on the banister.

“Yes, she’s gone,” I said, holding the envelope by its corner.

“Are you going to open it?” she asked.

“Not out here in the draft,” I said, rubbing my arms. “Let’s go back into the office.”

We walked back into the room, where the desk lamp cast a narrow circle of amber light over my ledgers and the legal documents Thomas had left behind.

I sat in my leather chair, and Caroline sat opposite me, her face pale but her eyes sharp, analytical, and entirely focused.

I used a brass letter opener to slide through the top of the envelope.