“Your father left me something,” I said. “And he left a choice about whether to show it to you. I’ve decided to show you. Not to hurt you. You’ll understand why in a minute.”
I read them Frank’s letter first.
I watched their faces change as their father’s voice, from beyond the grave, told them he’d been a coward, that I’d never married him for the house, that I’d saved it.
Then I showed them the documents.
The foreclosure notice. Their own debts, absorbed by their father in silence. My payment — my name, my savings, the full amount, nine years ago.
Stephanie started crying before she finished reading. Brad went completely silent, staring at the record of his own failed company’s debt, the debt his father had quietly carried, the debt that had almost cost them their mother’s house.
“You paid this,” Brad said finally. His voice was wrecked. “You paid — this is your money. This is everything you had.
For a house. That was going to come to us.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?”
