She looked at me, and she knew what this was about. She could have put it off, but she said to her guests, “John is the attorney for Mom’s estate. He wants to tell me where she buried the cash.”

Everyone got a chuckle out of that, and Elizabeth and I went into the house and she led me to a small library and closed the door.

I said to her, “This is a very nice house.”

“Too big, too old, too much upkeep.” She added with a smile, “Tom did all the decorating.” She opened a liquor cabinet and said, “Let me freshen your drink.”

“I’m all right.”

“Well, I need one.” She poured gin or vodka from a decanter into her glass.

I asked her, “How are you holding up?”

She stirred her drink with her finger, shrugged, and said, “All right. Tomorrow won’t be so good.”

“No. But time does heal.”

“I know. She had a good life.”

I could have slid right from that to the letter, but I sensed that we needed another minute of small talk, and I said, “I really enjoyed Tom’s company.”

“I do, too. We’re friends. I like Laurence, too, and I’m happy for both of them.”

“Good. Your kids are great. I love them.”

“They’re good kids. It’s been hard for them, but at least all this happened when they were old enough to understand.”

I nodded and said, “Same with my two.”

“Your kids are terrific, John.”

“I wish I’d been around for them more in the last ten years.”

“That wasn’t all your fault. And you have a long time to get to know them again.”

“I hope so.” I smiled and said, “My matchmaking seems to have fizzled.”

She, too, smiled and replied, “You never know.” She added, “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Then, on the subject of mating, she asked me, “Did you like Mitch?”

“No.”

She laughed and said, “You’re too subtle, John.”

“You can do much better.”

She didn’t respond to that, and we stood there a moment, neither of us coming up with a new subject for small talk.

So I said, “I spoke to Father Hunnings, and he said he spoke to you about the letter that your mother wrote to me.”

She nodded.

I continued, “He told me that your mother discussed with him – in general terms – the contents of that letter, and that Ethel asked him if she should give it to me.”

“I know that.”

“And Father Hunnings, as you know, wants to see the letter to determine if he thinks I should see it.”

She didn’t reply, and I could see that this was not going to be a slam dunk for me. I said to her, “I have no objection to sharing this letter with you – you are Ethel’s daughter. But I do have an objection to Father Hunnings seeing it before I do. Or seeing it at all.”

She nodded, and I could tell she was wavering.

So we both stood there. As an attorney, I know when to rest my case.

Finally, Elizabeth said, “I have the letter… unopened – it’s addressed to you… but… if you don’t mind, I’d like to think about it… maybe speak to Father Hunnings one more time.”

I reopened my case and said, “I think this is between me and you.”

“But Mom spoke to him… and now I’m in the middle.”

“What was the last thing she said to you about the letter?”

“You know… that I should give it to you after her death. But… what if it is scandalous? Or… who knows what?” She looked at me and asked, “What if it has something to do with Susan?”

I’d already thought about that, as Elizabeth obviously had. Elizabeth and Susan were friends, but somewhere in the back of Elizabeth’s otherwise beautiful mind was the selfish thought that if Susan were gone, then John was free. That’s egotistical, I know. But true. In any case, I didn’t think that Ethel, even if she knew some scandal about Susan, would be writing to me about it. In fact, she’d wanted Susan and me to reconcile. And even if the letter was about Susan, I couldn’t think of many things that would change my mind or my heart regarding how I felt about her. Well, I suppose I could think of a few things.

I said to Elizabeth, “This is something your mother wanted me to know. But I understand your concern about preserving her good reputation and her memory. So, may I suggest that we look at the letter now, together? And if it’s something like that, then you can keep it and destroy it.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that now.”

“All right. When you’re ready.”

She nodded. “Maybe Monday. When this is all behind me. I’ll call you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and said, “Maybe your mother was just telling me what an idiot I am.”

She smiled in return and said, “She actually liked you.” Elizabeth confessed, “But she never liked me liking you. She liked Tom. And Susan.”

“I like Tom and Susan, too. But Tom likes Laurence now.”

She smiled again and said, “It’s all about timing.”

“It is.” I opened my arms, and she stepped forward and we hugged.

She said, “Let’s speak Monday.”

“Fine.”

We walked together back to the patio, where Susan was speaking to Mitch and the other guests in Elizabeth’s little group.

Mitch said to Elizabeth and me, “Hey, let’s get the shovels and go digging for the money.”

Asshole.

Elizabeth ignored him – I’d given Mitch a thumbs-down, and he was finished – and said to Susan, “Sorry. John had to show me where to sign some papers.”

Susan smiled and said, “Make him earn his crabapple jelly.”

We chatted for a minute, then I said, “Unfortunately, we need to go.”

Susan and I thanked Elizabeth for her hospitality, and told her to call us if she needed anything. We wished everyone a good evening, and I said to Mitch, “Don’t wear those sandals if you go digging.”

Mitch did not reply.

Susan and I walked around the side of the house to avoid the people inside, and she informed me, “You were almost rude to Mitch.”

“I didn’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“There’s nothing to know.”

“Well, I think he and Elizabeth are…”

“Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I gave him an unsatisfactory rating.”

She thought about that, then asked, “You said that to Elizabeth?”

“I did.”

She stayed silent awhile, then inquired, “When did you become Elizabeth’s mentor and confidant?”

Whoops. I wasn’t following Susan’s thought process. I replied, “She asked me what I thought of him. So I told her.”

“You should learn not to answer so bluntly. And you should also learn not to meddle in people’s affairs.”

“All right.” I added, “It’s wonderful to be back.”

She didn’t respond to that and we walked in silence. Clearly, Susan still harbored a wee bit of jealousy. Good. To change the subject, I asked her, “Don’t you want to know about the letter?”

“Yes, I do.”

So I explained to her how Elizabeth and I had left it, and I added, “I just don’t see what could be in that letter that has any importance or relevance to me. So we shouldn’t worry about it.” I continued, “Ethel is – was – an old woman with some typical hang-ups of that generation, and a lot of old-fashioned ideas about what is important.”

Susan pointed out, “Father Hunnings was also concerned – or worried.”

“Well, talk about hang-ups. Did I tell you that I swore to him we were sleeping in separate bedrooms?”

“John, you shouldn’t have lied to a priest.”

“I was protecting your honor.”

“Let me do that.” She thought a moment, then said, “I think we need to give Father Hunnings the benefit of the doubt about this letter. He’s trying to do the right thing.”

I suggested, “Let’s see if I get to read the letter that was addressed to me, and let’s see what it says. Then I’ll let you know if I think he’s trying to do the right thing.”

We drove back to Stanhope Hall, and when we got to Grace Lane, Susan called the gatehouse to open up, then called Sophie, who assured us that there were still no onions in the house.