The stranger stepped forward, a gray-haired woman in a navy coat, and my breath caught. It was Doris, my late husband’s sister, whom I had not seen in twenty years. “Margaret,” she said quietly, “Jonathan asked me to come, but not for the reason he told you.” She held out the envelope, and her hand trembled. “I think you should read what is inside before he speaks.”

Jonathan lunged forward. “Aunt Doris, you promised.” Vivian caught his sleeve, whispering fiercely. I opened the envelope and found a copy of a power of attorney bearing my signature, dated two years ago. I had never signed it. Beneath it lay a letter in Raymond’s handwriting, addressed to Doris. My knees nearly gave way as I read the first line.