Two weeks later, I was outside hanging laundry when I heard tires on the gravel.
A long black car pulled up right in front of my trailer. A man in a gray suit stepped out, carrying a sealed envelope with my name written across the front.
“Margaret,” he said. “I was your husband’s attorney. He left very specific instructions — you were meant to get exactly what you deserved.”
My hands were shaking so badly it took three tries just to open it. I read the first line, and my knees gave out completely, right there in the dirt.
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