At the cemetery, rain began falling lightly. Everyone opened umbrellas. I did not have one. Evelyn would have scolded me for that.
You will catch your death standing in the rain like a fool.
After the burial, people gathered at the house.
Evelyn’s house.
Not mine.
Never mine.
I understood that by then.
I watched relatives move through the rooms, touching furniture, whispering, judging. Caroline stood by the mantel staring at Harold’s photograph.
I wanted to tell her I was sorry.
I wanted to tell her she had been right about me in the beginning, but wrong about what Evelyn had done to me.
I wanted to tell her that Evelyn had not been fooled.
She had been brave.
But Caroline would not have believed me.
And maybe I did not deserve belief.
Two days later, the attorney called.
His name was Mr. Alden, a tall, silver haired man with careful eyes and a voice like polished stone. I met him in his office downtown. Caroline was there. So were two distant cousins and Evelyn’s old friend Mrs. Alvarez.
Nobody greeted me.
I sat alone at the end of the table.
For one shameful moment, the old part of me woke up.
The house.
The accounts.
The will.
I hated myself for it, but grief does not immediately kill greed. Sometimes it exposes the pieces that are still rotten.
Mr. Alden opened a folder.
He read calmly.
The house was left to Caroline.
Most of Evelyn’s money was divided between a children’s hospital, the animal shelter where she had adopted Jasper, and a scholarship fund for adults returning to trade school.
Her jewelry went to Caroline’s daughters.
Her books to the library.
Her china to Mrs. Alvarez.
I received nothing.
The room went still.
One cousin made a small satisfied sound.
Caroline looked at me for the first time, waiting for anger.
I looked down at my hands.
There it was.
The punishment I deserved.
I had married Evelyn for security, and in the end, she had denied me all of it.
I should have felt betrayed.
