It was the sentence before it.
He cleared Mia’s debt before you read the letter, so you would never again open an envelope in this office with your stomach in your throat.
A man I met for thirty seconds had spent his d*ing weeks thinking about the exact feeling I had every single morning at that desk, and had reached across d*ath to take it away from me.
That is not what money does.
That is what love does, when it happens to have money.
“There’s one more thing,” Mr. Pennington said.
He hesitated, and for the first time his professional calm slipped.
“The reading of his will, and a small memorial, are being held Saturday. Samuel asked that you be there. He wanted you to see something.” He paused. “I should warn you, Ms. Reyes. You won’t be the only one who received a letter this week. And not everyone who’s coming on Saturday is coming for the right reasons.”
