I went back to the letter. There was one final paragraph.
The girls may keep every dollar, whether they forgive me or not. But the boxes come with one condition. They must be opened together, with you in the room. Nothing inside will make sense alone.
“I don’t want anything from her,” Sophie said.
“You don’t have to take anything,” I told her.
Claire rested her hand on the lid of her box. “But I want to know.”
Emma looked at Sophie for a long moment. Then Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down, her arms folded tight across her chest.
“Fine. But all three. Together. Like she wants.” She said the last words like they tasted bad.
The Bank, the Number, and the Key
We carried the boxes into the kitchen, and the party went on without us in the yard.
Emma opened hers first. Inside, resting on white satin, was a single card. On it, Vanessa had written a date – the date of her first deposit, exactly one month after she left. On the back was the name and address of a bank downtown.
