Then Ethan lifted the second envelope.
“This one is different.”
Dad shifted beside Mom.
I noticed immediately.
“Where did you get that?” he whispered.
Ethan heard him.
Of course he did.
“In Grandpa’s desk.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Not with anger.
With recognition.
I turned toward him.
“What letter?”
He did not answer.
Ethan did.
“I found it when I was six.”
A few people in the audience gave nervous little laughs, apparently imagining six-year-old Ethan snooping through drawers.
They did not know him.
At six, Ethan had not snooped.
He had researched.
He had been looking for an old ruler because he wanted to measure the height of the kitchen table after deciding the manufacturer’s dimensions on the website were inaccurate.
He had opened every drawer in Dad’s study with the seriousness of an archivist.
Apparently he had found more than a ruler.
“I knew the yellow blanket letter,” Ethan continued. “Mom showed it to me because I asked why Denise left me.”
