“‘Use it for whatever you need. I suspect, given some things you mentioned about your brother, you’ll know exactly what that is.'”
I put my hand over my mouth, unable to fully process the kindness in that sentence, given everything else happening simultaneously in that room.
Several relatives turned to look at me now too, curiosity plain on their faces.
Clearly wondering exactly who I was and why Mr. Ashworth had trusted me with something so personal.
I didn’t offer an explanation right then, still too overwhelmed myself to form a coherent sentence about any of it.
“‘And Isla, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I never got your letters sooner. I would have written back every single time.'”
Mr. Castellan closed the folder gently, looking around the room at the stunned faces surrounding the table.
“The investigation into the intercepted correspondence will proceed through proper legal channels,” he said. “I’ll be in touch with everyone regarding next steps.”
The meeting dissolved slowly after that, relatives filing out in small, murmuring clusters, several glancing back toward Renata with expressions I couldn’t fully read.
I stayed behind, unsure what to do with myself, still holding that unopened funeral envelope in my trembling hands.
Mr. Castellan approached me once the room had mostly emptied, his expression softening slightly from the formal tone he’d maintained throughout the reading.
He gestured toward a chair, waiting until I sat down before continuing, giving me a moment to collect myself after everything that had just unfolded.
“He spoke about you often.
Near the end,” he told me. “He wanted to make sure you understood how much those visits actually meant to him.”
I asked him the question that had been building since the moment Isla’s name first entered the room.
My voice came out smaller than I intended, though he seemed to understand exactly how much the answer actually mattered to me.
“Do you know where she is? Isla?”
“We have an old address,” he said. “Whether it’s still current is another matter entirely.”
I don’t know exactly what compelled me to offer, though the words left my mouth before I’d fully decided to say them.
Perhaps it was guilt, having been the one who spent his final months with him instead of the granddaughter who’d actually earned that place.
Perhaps it was simply the same stubbornness that had gotten Miles and my mom through years of hospital visits and impossible bills.
“I’d like to help find her, if that’s allowed.”
