Chapter 6: What Rhonda Did Next
Rhonda stared at the folded page on the table.
She didn't reach for it.
She didn't look at Donna.
She looked at me.
"You planned this," she said.
"I found a letter my husband left me," I said.
"That's all I did."
"You brought a lawyer.
You had documents prepared.
You set this up like a —"
"Rhonda." David's voice was even.
"Your sister has signed a release.
That, combined with the receipt documenting your own release fourteen years ago, means Laura holds clear title to this property.
I'll be filing the updated deed with the county recorder's office this week."
Rhonda pushed back from the table.
The chair scraped hard against the floor.
"This isn't finished," she said.
"It is, legally speaking."
"I want to see that affidavit.
I want to see the full file from Fitch."
"You're welcome to request copies through your attorney," David said.
Rhonda picked up her folder.
She looked at Patrice.
"Let's go."
Patrice didn't move.
"Patrice."
"I signed my release years ago," Patrice said quietly.
"I told you then I didn't want anything to do with this."
"You're seriously going to sit there —"
"I'm going to sit here," Patrice said, "yes."
Rhonda looked at Donna.
Donna was looking at the table.
"Fine," Rhonda said.
The word came out flat and cold.
She turned toward the door, then stopped.
She turned back.
Her eyes found mine across the room.
"You think this is over," she said.
"You think a piece of paper fixes everything.
But I know things about Michael that you don't.
Things he never told you.
And one day you're going to wish you'd taken the money and walked away when you had the chance."
The room was very still.
"Michael left me a letter," I said.
"Fourteen pages.
He told me everything."
Something moved across Rhonda's face.
It wasn't quite fear.
It was the expression of someone who has just realized they don't know how much the other person knows, and that not knowing is worse than any answer.
She left without another word.
The front door closed behind her.
The three of us sat in the silence she left behind.
Patrice had her hands in her lap.
Donna was still looking at the table.
Outside, a car started and pulled away.
"I'm sorry," Donna said finally.
She wasn't looking at either of us.
She was looking at the window, at the maple tree in the front yard.
"I should have signed twelve years ago.
He asked me to.
I knew it was the right thing." She stopped.
"I was afraid of her.
I've been afraid of her my whole life."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"Michael knew that," I said.
"He said so in the letter.
He said it wasn't your fault."
Donna's eyes filled.
She pressed her lips together hard.
"He was a good man," she said.
"He was."
Patrice reached over and put her hand over Donna's.
David quietly gathered his documents and slid them back into his briefcase.
He caught my eye and gave a small nod — the kind that means *we're not done yet, but today went the right way.*
My phone buzzed on the table.
A text from an unknown number.
The same one as the night before.
May you like
*She's already called someone.
Be careful.*
