I sank back on my heels.
“That won’t work,” I said, though I wasn’t sure.
“Maybe not. But it could delay things. Freeze things. Pressure you.”
I thought of Lucas in first class, perhaps sipping wine, perhaps texting me some tender message from thirty thousand feet.
I thought of him taking that folder from the safe with hands that had once held mine in hospital waiting rooms and hotel balconies and quiet kitchens.
A strange grief rose in me then, different from rage.
It was not grief for losing him.
It was grief for realizing I had not known the person who lived beside me.
“Anne?” Grace said.
“I’m here.”
“You need a lawyer before you touch the money.”
I laughed under my breath. “That sounds suspiciously sensible for a stranger who just admitted to watching my house.”
“I know how this sounds.”
“No, I’m not sure you do.”
