The letter went on: “Knowing how people are, I’d bet it was Tabitha—a woman I never liked, because she had the smile of a magazine and the soul of a debt collector.”

Penelope let out a small laugh as I kept reading.

“The key opens the bottom drawer of my desk, where you’ll find exactly what you need to defend what’s rightfully yours.”

“Remember what I taught you about chess: sometimes you let a pawn advance just to protect the queen.”

I looked at Penelope and asked if she’d been in on this the whole time.

“I helped him prepare everything six months ago, when he realized how his illness would eventually end.”

I fit the brass key into the desk drawer, and it opened with a satisfying click.