“Why was she in our bedroom?”
“They were looking for something.”
“What?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“A blue envelope.”
I waited.
Emily looked at me at last.
“About two months ago, a certified letter came for you from a law firm downtown. Your mother was here when it arrived. She told me it was about one of your old medical bills and took it with her.”
“I don’t have any old medical bills.”
“I know.”
She reached for my hand.
“A week later, I found pieces of the envelope in the trash. Your mother had torn it up, but I could still read a few words. Your name. The word ‘trust.’ And something about a descendant.”
A chill traveled down my spine.
“What trust?”
“I didn’t know. So I called the law firm.”
“You called them?”
“They wouldn’t tell me much because I wasn’t you. But the receptionist said they had been trying to contact you for years.”
