My hands shook as I lifted the lid. Inside lay a stack of envelopes tied with twine, each addressed to me in Adelaide’s neat handwriting, and each dated from the past six years. On top sat a small folded note. “I could never send these, because I promised never to speak of Colin. But I needed you to read them after I was gone from your home.”

I opened the first envelope, and my breath caught. Adelaide wrote that she had known about Colin’s affair for months before I did, and she had said nothing, out of cowardice. She had carried that guilt ever since. Dorothy touched my arm. “She asked me to keep this until she left,” she whispered. Then she pointed to the last envelope, which was thicker than the rest.