She put her hand over mine on the table.
“You are not alone, Rachel. He asked me to make sure of it with almost the last breath he had. I intend to spend the rest of my life keeping that promise — if you will let me.”
I thought about Vanessa and her checkbook at the funeral.
How she had offered me money as a way of making me smaller.
And here was a woman I had known for one single night, offering me a future as a way of making a dead man’s last wish come true.
The difference between those two envelopes is the entire story of my life now.
Vanessa called, about a week later, when word got around the family that Jack’s successful, generous sister had appeared out of nowhere.
Suddenly my older sister was extremely interested in my wellbeing.
“You really should have told me he had family with money,” she said. “I would have been so much nicer about the whole thing.”
