Daniel looked toward the closed door.Elaine Mercer lived in a private care home forty minutes outside the city.
When we entered her room, she stared at Daniel first.
“You finally brought her.”
“You knew I was coming?” I asked.
“I’ve waited twenty-five years.”
Elaine was small and silver-haired, but her eyes were as sharp as Richard’s.
She pointed to the chairs.
“Sit down.
I owe you the truth while I still have the courage to speak it.”
“Did you witness my signature?”
“No.
I witnessed Richard write it.”
Lily gripped my hand.
“Why didn’t you stop him, Grandma?”
“Because I was a coward.”
Elaine opened a locked drawer and removed a red notebook.
“Richard learned he couldn’t father a child.
He believed his marriage would end if you knew.”
“It wouldn’t have,” I said.
“I told him that.
He said love changed when pity entered the room.”
