The Reading of the Will
The Other Wife

The Second Key

"That's impossible," Rosalind said. "There's only one key, and it's been in Whitney's coat pocket since last night."

"There were two keys issued," the manager said, checking the log. "Both original, both from account opening. One was used yesterday at 4:12 p.m."

Whitney did the math without wanting to. Yesterday at 4:12, they'd all still been sitting in Lane's conference room, staring at a deed. All of them — Rosalind, Whitney, Garrett, Juniper, Asa, Lane. Every single one of them accounted for in that room until nearly six.

Except Garrett had stepped out. Twice. "Job site called," he'd said. Nobody had thought to question it, because why would they.

Whitney turned and found her brother already looking away, toward the revolving door, like he was calculating the distance to it.

"Garrett."

"Don't."

"You had a key."

He didn't answer, which was an answer.

"How long," Whitney said, and her voice came out smaller than she wanted, "have you known?"

Garrett's jaw worked for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it wasn't to Whitney. It was to the floor.

"Two years," he said. "Since right after the diagnosis. Dad called me. Just me. Said he needed someone he could talk to who wouldn't fall apart."

"And you didn't fall apart," Whitney said, hearing the ice in her own voice and not caring. "You just didn't tell your mother her husband had another family for two years."

"He asked me not to. He said he'd handle it himself, in his own time, and if I told you or Mom before he was ready, he'd cut me off completely — not just money, everything. And I believed him, because that's exactly the kind of thing he'd do."

Rosalind made a sound like something breaking loose inside her chest.

"You knew," she said. "My own son knew, and let me grieve a man I thought I understood."

Continue the story Part 9: The Letter →