Tears filled my eyes.
“Then why does it feel like I failed him?”
“Because good parents fail their children in smaller ways all the time.”
I laughed weakly.
“Comforting.”
“You want comforting or true?”
“Apparently this family has chosen truth.”
“Bad luck for you.”
I squeezed his hand.
Then something occurred to me.
“The anonymous donor.”
David went still.
“What?”
“The half-million-dollar donation Tyler mentioned.”
He looked away.
I narrowed my eyes.
“David.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“That’s generally considered a positive character trait.”
“Who was it?”
He smiled.
“Ask Mason.”
I groaned.
“I’m going to murder all of you.”
“Wait until tomorrow. It’s on the schedule.”
I threw a napkin at him.
The next morning, Mason was already awake when I entered the kitchen.
The wooden box of letters sat on the table.
He had opened seven.
Each envelope was arranged in a precise stack.
