Nathan carried a small steel lockbox, the kind people use for important papers, and he set it on the head table with a quiet clack. Marlene’s hand tightened on the tablecloth. “Please,” she whispered, “not in front of everyone.” Nathan ignored her and turned to the microphone. “Mom, you told me for years that I owed you everything. Tonight I am going to show this room exactly what I owe, and what I have already paid.”

He opened the lid and lifted out a worn leather folder and a sealed white envelope. My stomach dropped, because I had never seen either one. Guests leaned forward as Nathan pulled out the top page, and Lily’s fingers found mine. Marlene’s face turned the color of paper. Then Nathan read the first line aloud, and a glass shattered somewhere behind us.