I looked at Evelyn. Her face had gone pale, but she wasn’t frightened. She looked tired—tired in the way a person looks when an old suspicion has finally been given a name.
“Did she take the envelope?” she asked.
Marcus nodded. “She left with it.”
Julian appeared in the doorway behind us. He had changed into a soft green sweater, and his expression became guarded when he saw Marcus’s face.
“What happened?”
Evelyn didn’t answer immediately.
“My mother opened the letters,” I said.
Julian’s gaze moved to the folder on the table, then to Evelyn.
“Victoria?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened. “That explains a lot.”
I turned toward him. “What does?”
“Nothing I can prove.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Julian glanced at Evelyn. She gave a small nod.
“When Evelyn first came to Boston, she had a letter from your mother.”
My chest tightened. “What letter?”
“I don’t know exactly. Evelyn never showed it to me. But she said your mother had contacted her before she left Chicago. She told Evelyn that you had made your decision and that involving children would only create more pain.”
