Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected

He placed a sealed envelope on the desk, cream-colored, with my name and Diane Whitfield’s name typed next to each other.

“This isn’t for today.

Charles was very firm about it.

If the estate is challenged, this goes to Diane and nobody else.”

“Challenged by whom?”

He pressed the envelope flat with two fingers.

“That’s the part I hope we never find out.”

—