No confession.
Still, I would not build truth out of suspicion.
I asked Maeve:
“Did your mother keep anything else?”
“Some letters.”
“From Lorna?”
“No. To Lorna.”
“Unsent?”
Maeve nodded.
“Boxes.”
My throat tightened.
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a dozen.”
Ellie had been silent through all of this.
Then she asked:
“So we’re family?”
Children have a gift for walking directly through complexity.
Maeve looked at her.
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
She pointed at me.
“He was married to Grandma Maelis’s sister.”
Ellie frowned.
“So not blood?”
“Not exactly.”
I looked at her.
“Close enough for soup.”
She smiled.
Maeve did not.
Not yet.
Then she asked the question I knew was coming.
“Why are you dressed like this?”
Ah.
