Inside the white envelope was a photocopied record, yellowed with age, dated nearly forty years earlier, and a short note in Lawrence’s hand.

The note explained it simply.

Decades ago, when their own father died, Shirley had quietly misappropriated money from his estate — taken what was not hers, in a way that could have brought serious legal trouble down on her.

And Lawrence, her older brother, had covered it.

He had quietly made the shortfall good out of his own pocket, kept the matter out of court, protected his sister from the consequences of her own greed.

But he had not simply forgiven and forgotten, because he knew her too well for that.