tightened.
“How much?”
“Money isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
Samuel looked at me.
“Tell him, Margaret.”
“I have no idea.”
“Yes, you do.”
I stared.
Samuel pointed at my wedding ring.
“Robert knew.”
I looked down.
My ring?
Then memory struck.
Twenty-nine years ago, Robert had briefly lost my wedding ring after taking it to be resized during my pregnancy.
He returned it two weeks later.
I had never questioned the delay.
I removed it.
Inside the band was a tiny engraving I had always assumed was a jeweler’s mark.
Three letters.
E.H.W.
Evelyn Hale Whitmore?
I looked at Daniel.
“Was your mother ever married to Samuel?”
“No.”
Samuel answered instead.
“She was married to Robert.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I stared at him.
“No.”
“For eleven months.”
Daniel looked equally shocked.
“When?”
“Before Robert met Margaret.”
I almost dropped the ring.
Samuel continued.
“Evelyn married Robert to
