He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

“Well, Eleanor,” he said.

“That was the easy part.”

I looked at the blue document, still unable to believe the weight of it.

“The easy part?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Vance said.

He reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a smaller white envelope, sealed with a thick drop of red wax.

On the front, my name was written in Garrett’s familiar, bold handwriting.

“He told me to give you this only after the will was read,” Mr. Vance said, sliding the envelope across the desk.

“He said it contains the keys to the safety deposit box in the city.”

“The one with the real records of the holding company.”

“The ones that show who Charles and Victoria have been dealing with.”

The red wax caught the gray light from the window.

“And Eleanor,” Mr. Vance added, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper.

“It also contains something else.”

“Something about the night Garrett went into the hospital.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“What do you mean?” I asked.