I set her reading glasses on the mahogany nightstand beside the brass lamp.

On the far side of the room, the writing desk was closed.

In its top right drawer lay a thick white sealed envelope Evelyn had put there six months earlier, with my name written across it in her neat, looping hand.

My hand hung above the drawer handle for a moment, but I didn’t pull it open.

I lifted the heavy cream landline receiver next to the bed and dialed the seven digits for Margaret’s home office.

The line rang twice before her calm voice came on.