Chapter 14 - Arthur Returned the Original Key
The old brass key no longer opened anything.
Arthur had saved it after replacing the front lock.
He handed it to me while we unpacked the new kitchen.
“Souvenir?”
“Trash.”
“Your husband would keep it.”
“He kept screws.”
“He labeled screws.”
“Psychopath.”
Arthur smiled.
People occasionally assumed something romantic existed between us.
It didn’t.
We loved each other in the complicated way two people can after sharing decades of another person.
Jack was his friend.
Jack was my husband.
When Jack died, Arthur did not replace him.
He remained Arthur.
That mattered.
I asked:
“Why did they go pale when they saw you?”
He set down a box.
“Sarah called me two weeks before their trip.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She asked whether I would accept becoming trustee if you were declared incapacitated.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
“I said if that happened legitimately, I would follow the trust.”
“She thought you’d cooperate.”
“Apparently.”
“Then why panic?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Because Friday afternoon I told her I’d spoken to you.”
That was all.
Not threats.
Not secret counterattack.
Sarah realized the supposedly confused older woman had independently contacted the one person positioned to stop misuse of the trust.
The narrative was collapsing.
Arthur picked up the brass key.
“You want this?”
I took it.
Then dropped it into the trash.
He looked offended.
“Jack would’ve kept it.”
May you like
“I know.”
That was exactly why I didn’t.
