“I can call the attorney and have her come here tomorrow.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I want to open it now.”
“Matthew—”
“I’m tired of adults deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
The words came out sharper than I intended. Rosa reached for my hand, but I didn’t look away from Gabriel.
“My father wrote it for me. If there’s something inside about me, I want to see it.”
Gabriel studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“All right.”
He took a small letter opener from the folder. The blade glinted briefly in the sunlight.
Before he touched the envelope, a vehicle slowed outside the house.
All three of us turned toward the window.
A dark sedan had stopped near the mailbox.
I recognized it immediately.
Veronica stepped out.
She was wearing the same black dress from the funeral, though she had removed her jacket. Her face looked pale and tired, and she held a leather handbag against her chest.
