“She knew certain relatives would attempt to manipulate her, and eventually you.”
Lila’s sudden apology echoed in my mind.
Five thousand.
Ten thousand.
Twenty-five thousand.
She had not wanted a memory.
She had wanted the fortune hidden behind it.
“Your mother amended her will shortly before she passed,” Mr. Bennett continued. “She made certain the shawl would be left solely to you.”
“Why me?”
He paused before answering.
“Your mother left a letter explaining that.”
He removed an envelope and placed it in front of me.
My name was written across it in her handwriting.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
My dearest Clara,
By the time you read this, you may already know the truth about the shawl.
I am sorry I could not tell you sooner.
I watched my mother test every person around her with money. Some failed quickly. Others failed slowly. Wealth revealed parts of them they tried to hide.
You were different.
You cared for me when I was ill, even when you had little time and no expectation of reward. You visited your grandmother when everyone else complained she was too difficult. You listened to her stories. You treated her like a person, not an inheritance.
The shawl is yours because I trust you.
