perhaps someone copied it.”
I shook my head. “My mother never showed me this envelope. She didn’t know Claire had it.”
“Maybe she knew.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
The room seemed to have changed. A few minutes earlier, it had been warm and welcoming. Now every object appeared to hold a secret—the Christmas tree, the photographs on the mantel, the closed doors leading to other rooms.
I reached for the envelope.
Daniel didn’t stop me.
The paper felt old, but not fragile. The seal had already been broken once and
