Everyone had an opinion.
But Thomas, the only person whose opinion I had always trusted, had left the final decision in my hands.
I opened his letter.
My dearest Leah,
If you’re reading this, you’ve probably discovered just how much trouble an old engineer can leave behind.
Despite myself, I laughed.
I’m sorry for the secrets.
I spent too many years thinking love meant protecting you from every difficult truth.
I see now that I should have trusted you with more of them.
But I need you to understand why I built Hawthorne Ridge.
When you were thirty-one, we sat in our old kitchen one winter night after you came home from the hospital.
You were exhausted, and you told me something I’ve never forgotten.
I stopped reading.
I knew the night he meant.
It was the winter after I lost our second baby.
A daughter.
