She wrote:
I told myself you had too much and we were only accelerating inheritance.
That was theft with nicer vocabulary.
Good sentence.
Then:
I also told myself Trevor's temper was not my responsibility.
His violence was his choice.
Encouraging his anger was mine.
I put the letter down.
That distinction mattered.
She did not ask me to forgive her.
She asked one thing:
Would I return her grandmother's cookbook found in the River Oaks kitchen?
I laughed.
Of all the assets.
All the lies.
A cookbook.
I had it.
Harbor House had sent personal items through lawyers.
I mailed it.
No note.
Not every loose end needs a speech.
Then, three years after the assault, I got a call from Trevor's counselor.
Not details.
Those were private.
A request.
Trevor had completed every required program.
Paid restitution according to the schedule.
Worked as a site estimator for a company with no connection to me.
