Chương 5
“I’m sorry,” Margaret said.
Sophie swallowed.
“I need to see them.”
“Not tonight.”
“You don't get to say that anymore.”
“I am still your mother.”
“And I am still apparently the last person in this family allowed to know my own life.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair?”
“I was protecting you.”
“From him?”
“Yes.”
Sophie looked at Michael.
He stood silent.
“Then why keep the letters?”
Margaret did not answer.
That was when Sophie understood there was more.
Not another spectacular secret.
Something smaller.
Which made it worse.
“Why did you keep them?”
Margaret sat down again.
“Because Daniel asked me to.”
Michael looked up.
That surprised him.
Sophie saw it.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“He said someday you might ask.”
“So Dad knew Michael was writing.”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
Sophie looked toward the rain.
Daniel Cole had known.
The father she remembered in practical fragments—coffee too hot, work boots by the back door, the smell of sawdust in his truck, his refusal to buy pre-shredded cheese because it was “a tax on laziness”—had known another man was writing birthday letters to Sophie.
He had kept them.
Or asked Margaret to.
That changed something.
She could not yet name what.
Headlights appeared through the rain.
Ethan.
He ran from his car to the boathouse with his suit jacket over his head and a white envelope tucked beneath his shirt.
When he entered, he was soaked from the knees down.
He looked at the three of them.
“Did anybody kill anybody?”
“No,” Sophie said.
“Good.”
He pulled the envelope out.
“Low bar.”
Margaret stood.
“Ethan, I need to explain something before she reads that.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
Sophie held out her hand.
Ethan gave her the envelope.
Daniel’s handwriting covered the front.
Sophie.
That was all.
Her father had written her name.
She traced the S with her thumb.
The paper smelled faintly of Ethan’s apartment—laundry detergent and whatever aggressively pine-scented cleaner he used.
“When did he write it?”
“About four months before he died.”
Sophie looked at Margaret.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
That answer she believed.
She slid her finger beneath the flap.
The envelope had already been opened.
She looked at Ethan.
“I told you I didn’t.”
“Someone did.”
“It was like that when I found it.”
“Where?”
“In Dad’s desk.”
Margaret frowned.
“We emptied that desk.”
“Not the false bottom.”
Sophie stared at him.
“Dad had a false bottom?”
“Apparently Dad was much more interesting than we thought.”
Margaret almost smiled.
Almost.
Sophie unfolded the pages.
Daniel’s handwriting was cramped and blocky. He had always written as if paper cost money.
She read silently.
After a minute, Ethan sat.
After two, Margaret did.
Michael remained standing.
Sophie reached the second page.
Her eyes stopped.
She reread a paragraph.
Then another.
“What?” Ethan asked.
She did not answer.
“Soph?”
She lowered the letter.
“Dad met him.”
Michael frowned.
“When?”
Sophie looked at him.
“Six months before Dad died.”
Michael went completely still.
“No.”
Margaret turned.
“What?”
Michael shook his head. “I didn’t meet Daniel.”
Sophie held up the letter.
“He says you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then Dad was?”
“No.”
“Those are the options.”
Michael stared at the pages.
“Can I see?”
“No.”
He nodded.
Sophie read the sentence aloud.
“‘Last October I met Michael in Burlington because I needed to know whether he had changed before I decided what to leave you.’”
Michael's face changed at the word October.
Margaret noticed.
“What?”
He looked toward the lake.
“Not me.”
Sophie lowered the paper.
“What?”
“He didn’t meet me.”
“Then who?”
Michael looked at Margaret.
She stood so quickly the bench scraped backward.
“No.”
Michael said nothing.
Margaret's face drained of color.
Ethan looked between them.
“Can somebody stop saying no and tell us what the hell is happening?”
Margaret whispered, “Robert.”
Michael nodded.
“Who’s Robert?” Sophie asked.
“My brother.”
The room seemed to contract.
Sophie looked at the photograph.
Michael.
Scar.
Dark hair.
“Does he look like you?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“When we were younger? Enough.”
Margaret walked away from the table.
“No. Robert was in Arizona.”
“He moved back in 2023.”
“You told me he was dead.”
Michael looked at her.
“No.”
“You said—”
“I said he was dead to me.”
Margaret stared at him.
“That is not the same sentence.”
“No.”
“You let me believe—”
“I was trying to tell you I hadn’t spoken to him in fifteen years.”
Margaret turned away.
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“This family is incredible.”
Sophie barely heard him.
“Why would your brother meet Dad pretending to be you?”
Michael's expression hardened.
“I don’t know.”
Margaret did.
Sophie could see it.
“Mom?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Mom.”
“Robert hated me.”
“Why?”
“Because I testified against him.”
Michael answered.
Sophie looked at him.
“For what?”
Michael took a slow breath.
“Fraud.”
Margaret turned back.
“That isn’t the whole story.”
“No.”
“What fraud?”
Michael leaned against the table.
He suddenly looked older.
“Our father owned a construction company. Robert handled the books. I worked jobs. After Dad died, Robert started moving money.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Specific.”
“About three hundred thousand dollars.”
Ethan whistled softly.
Michael continued.
“He used subcontractor accounts. Fake invoices. Margaret found paperwork in my truck.”
“You knew?”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“You were part of it?”
“I signed things I shouldn’t have signed.”
Margaret said, “He was part of it until he got scared.”
Michael accepted that.
“Yes.”
Sophie looked at her mother.
“And you testified.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Robert took a plea. Michael cooperated. The company collapsed.”
“Did Dad know?”
“Some of it.”
Sophie lifted the letter.
“Apparently he knew more than you thought.”
Lightning flashed beyond the lake.
The lights flickered.
Nobody moved.
Then the pendant lamps steadied.
Ethan said, “We need to find Robert.”
Margaret looked at him as if he had suggested summoning a bear.
“No.”
“He met Dad pretending to be Michael.”
“We don’t know that.”
May you like
“Michael says it wasn’t him.”
Margaret laughed bitterly. “And we’re trusting Michael now?”
