The mansion’s west wing was being converted into housing for retired employees.

Then I remembered the suit.

“What about the eight hundred dollars you borrowed?”

Walter leaned closer.

“That was the only test I could not resist.”

“The suit cost eight hundred?”

“Six hundred.”

He handed me the remaining two hundred dollars.

The minister coughed to hide his laughter.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I looked at the man who had cooked soup with me, listened to every ridiculous dream I had ever shared, and allowed me to discover who he was after the luxury disappeared.

“Do I still get to marry you?” I asked.

“Only if you promise to read the first page.”

I looked down at the charter.

The first instruction read:

Learn every name you can.

“Fine,” I said.

The guests applauded, and the ceremony continued.

PART 3: THE REAL INHERITANCE

After the wedding, Walter handed me a clipboard.