“She asked me to keep these letters until the right moment.”
Susan looked around my living room.
“After she died, I considered mailing them. Then, years later, you moved into the house directly across from mine.”
I stared at her.
“You recognized me?”
“During your first week.”
“And you never said anything?”
“I almost did many times. But you were always polite and distant. Busy. Guarded. I realized you weren’t ready.”
I looked at the letter in my hands.
“And now?”
“Now you’ve spent three weeks sitting beside my bed at nine every evening telling me how badly you failed your mother.”
Susan squeezed my hand.
“You needed to hear her answer in her own words.”
Then Susan slowly turned toward Greg.
“And now you know why Sam asked me to stay here.”
Greg looked ashamed.
“I thought he wanted the house.”
Susan’s expression changed immediately.
“You thought about my house because apparently that was what you were thinking about.”
