Claire stood.
“The doctors said cancer.”
“Could someone have caused it?”
“No.”
She said it too quickly.
I noticed.
So did she.
“Claire.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s different from no.”
She walked away from me.
For several seconds, she stared at the photograph of Jack and me on the mantel.
Our wedding day.
We looked impossibly young.
Finally, she whispered, “Jack started wondering too.”
I felt suddenly nauseated.
“Wondering what?”
“He asked for another toxicology screening.”
“And?”
“He never got the results.”
“Why?”
The silence after that sentence felt enormous.
I found myself touching my stomach again.
The baby moved.
One small kick.
Jack’s child.
Arthur Vale’s grandchild.
An heir.
I slowly looked toward the envelope Claire had placed on the table.
“What exactly did Jack leave me?”
Claire’s answer came quietly.
“Not you.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“He didn’t leave it to you.”
