Richard lifted the leather blotter on the desk and removed a cream envelope.

My name was written on it in Grandpa’s slanting handwriting.

I sat down before opening it.

Inside were two sheets of paper.

Clara,

If Richard has given you this letter, I am no longer able to tell you something face to face.

I wish I could.

You have been the best part of my life for seventeen years, and I want you to understand that none of those years was a sacrifice.