The service had been a small one, six folding chairs beneath a green tent, and two of those chairs sat empty.

“There will be a reading of the will,” Liam said.

“Your name is in it.” “In what way?”

“As the person who receives this.” He looked at the box instead of at me. In eleven years, Charles had never once mentioned a lawyer.

I wanted to ask more questions. A car door slammed in the lane behind us, and Liam turned his head toward it. “Take it home with you,” he said.

“Don’t open it in the parking lot.”

He walked back toward the gray sedan.

His umbrella tilted against the wind, and he never looked back.

I watched until his taillights smeared into the rain.

I carried the box to my car and held it in my lap.