My mother left me hungry and lonely at 16. When my…

Paula froze. Her hand, which had been reaching for a glass of water, stopped in midair. For half a second, the mask slipped.

I saw panic. I saw recognition. She knew that font.

She knew that tone. It was the voice of a man who played chess while everyone else was playing checkers. Then, just as quickly, she recovered.

She let out another laugh, but this one was brittle. It sounded like dry leaves being crushed. “Oh, Elliot,” she said, shaking her head.

“Always with the theatrics, even from the grave. What is this? Some kind of final joke?”

Marvin placed his hand on the envelope.

He looked directly at my mother, his expression grave. “Your brother anticipated today,” Marvin said. The words were quiet, but they carried the force of a judgment.