Lauren was on her feet.

“That's impossible,” she said. “Mom would never do that. She loved us all the same. She must have been confused.”

“She was seventy-nine,” said Amber quickly. “Old people get mixed up. Claire was there every week. She could have pushed her.”

They all turned to look at me.

“I didn't know,” I said. My voice was shaking. “I swear. She never told me.”

“Oh, come on,” said Lauren. “Every Sunday for years. Church, lunch, fixing the furnace. And you expect us to believe you never once mentioned the house?”

“I never did.”

“We'll contest it,” said Kyle. “We'll go to court. Any judge will see—”

“Mr. Donnelly,” said Mr. Reed calmly. “Please sit down. Your mother expected you to say exactly that. She asked me to read you her letter before anyone said anything else.”

He took an envelope from the file. Mom's handwriting was on the front. Big, loopy blue letters.

To be read aloud, to all of them.

Lauren sat down slowly.

Mr. Reed opened the envelope.