I unfolded the letter.
“Katie,
If you’re reading this, something has gone wrong. I told you to only open the safe if you needed it. So you needed it. I’m sorry, sweetheart.
I’m going to guess it’s your father. I hope I’m wrong. I’ve spent a lot of years hoping I was wrong about him.
There’s something I never told you. I never told anybody. In 2011, your father forged my signature on a loan against this house. Sixty thousand dollars. He said
later he was going to pay it back before I noticed. He didn’t. I found out when the bank sent a letter about late payments.
I paid it off. Every penny. I didn’t go to the police. He’s my son. I told myself it was a mistake. That he was in trouble and he panicked and he’d learn.
He didn’t learn. Your grandmother always said Richard never learned anything he didn’t want to know.
So I wrote everything down. I went to a lawyer and swore to it. It’s attached here. I’ve never shown it to anyone. I hoped I never would have to.
That’s why the house is yours, Katie. Not because I love you more. I love all of you. It’s because you’re the one who’ll take care of it. And you’re the one who’ll need somewhere to stand when the ground shakes.
Your whole life, they’ve asked you to be a good sister. A good daughter. You’ve been both. Better than they deserved.
Now I’m asking you to be something else.
I’m asking you to be good to yourself.
Don’t let them make you small in my house.
I’ll be on the porch.
