Daniel laughed.
Jonathan laughed.
Even Claire laughed.
And suddenly the lake house—Robert’s secret lake house—was filled with people I loved.
Three days earlier, I had sat alone at my kitchen table staring at a tiny chocolate cake and believing nobody remembered me.
Now I could barely find an empty chair.
Life has a cruel sense of timing.
It also, occasionally, has a miraculous one.
Samuel did not return that weekend.
He sent Daniel a letter several weeks later.
Daniel never told me everything it said.
I never asked.
He only said Samuel had entered therapy and voluntarily turned over several remaining financial records connected to old accounts.
No dramatic reconciliation followed.
Some wounds do not disappear because someone finally apologizes.
But Daniel eventually wrote back.
One sentence.
I hope you become someone you can live with.
That was enough.
As for Robert, I read every letter in the storage unit.
