The words were careful.
Too careful.
Jennifer stepped away from the desk. “Mother, don’t say another word.”
Samuel’s gaze moved to Jennifer.
“You know something.”
Jennifer’s lips pressed together.
Michael turned on her. “Jen?”
“I said don’t,” Jennifer snapped.
Her voice cracked through the room, and
for a second she looked younger too. Not the designer-clad sister toasting my wire transfers, but the little girl who used to hide behind our mother when Dad and Mom argued in low voices after we were supposed to be asleep.
Emma folded the letter with surprising care.
“I don’t need all the answers today,” she said.
Everyone turned toward her.
Her face was pale, but something had changed. The woman who had stood over dirty pots the night before now stood in a room full of people who had tried to make her small, holding proof that her life had roots deeper than their lies.Support Causes
