“Paige had a daughter, and we missed seven years.”

“Grief isn’t permission to frighten people,” I told her.

“If you’re going to know Harper, that is the first thing you need to understand.”

She accepted that without defending herself.

I expected the rest of the conversation to be about diamonds and inheritance, but Natalie took an envelope from her bag and placed it between us.

Inside was a copy of an old birthday card, addressed to Paige in Evelyn’s handwriting.

The front showed a crooked watercolor garden.