She left without asking me to forgive her.
I appreciated that more than another apology.
Daniel remained.
Michael stood by the ballroom doors.
“When did we stop being friends?” he asked.
Daniel looked startled.
“We didn’t.”
“Yes, we did.”
Michael’s voice stayed calm.
“We just didn’t notice.”
Daniel’s eyes lowered.
“I thought helping meant solving problems before you knew they existed.”
“You were helping yourself feel important.”
Daniel flinched.
Then, after a long moment, nodded.
“Maybe I was.”
He handed Michael the safe key.
“I’m sorry.”
Michael did not answer.
Some apologies need time before they can be heard.
Two hours later, Avery drove me home.
Elaine sat beside me.
The house looked ordinary beneath the porch light.
That was almost offensive.
I had expected it to look changed.
A house should not be allowed to keep the same windows after a day like that.
Inside my bedroom, the safe stood open.
There were six envelopes inside.
Avery examined them without touching anything.
“Thomas was organized,” he said.
“That’s one word for it.”
I knelt beside the safe.
Five envelopes had names.
One was blank.
I removed it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Thomas and me beside the cedar tree at Lake Briar.
On the back, in his handwriting, were four words.
ASK FRANKLIN ABOUT ELLIS.
Elaine read over my shoulder.
“Franklin was the estate attorney.”
“Yes.”
“Who is Ellis?”
I stared at the photograph.
“I have no idea.”
Avery had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
I looked at him.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“My father’s name was Ellis.”
The room seemed to narrow around us.
Avery rarely spoke about his father, who had died when Avery was in his twenties.
“What did your father have to do with Thomas?”
Avery looked almost embarrassed.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He worked for Thomas.”
I shook my head.
“No. You told me he repaired industrial equipment.”
“He did.”
“For Mercer Industries?”
Avery nodded.
“For seventeen years.”
The photograph shook slightly in my hand.
“Why wouldn’t Thomas ever mention that?”
“I don’t know.”
Avery looked toward the open safe.
“But there’s something else.”
He reached into his wallet and removed an old, folded photograph.
It showed two men standing beside a fishing boat.
One was a much younger Avery’s father.
The other was Thomas.
I stared at them.
On the back was a date.
And beneath it, a message written by Thomas:
ELLIS — KEEP THE SECOND SET OF RECORDS SAFE. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, MARGARET WILL NEED THEM.
For the first time that night, the missing twenty-two million dollars no longer felt like the real mystery.
The real mystery was why my husband had trusted another man with records he had never told me existed.
And why, nine years after Thomas died, Avery had only now discovered that those records might still be waiting somewhere.
