Chapter 7 - THE NAME INSIDE THE JEWELRY BOXMy mother’s bank box contained one more clue.
A tiny velvet pouch.
Inside was a key engraved:
MERCER ARCHIVE — 12
Different from the bank key.
My attorney traced it to a private document repository established by Elise’s father.
We obtained access through Daniel’s trust.
Inside were letters Elise had written during pregnancy.
One to Robert.
One to my mother.
One to Daniel.
The last had never been delivered.
Daniel read it alone first.
Then asked me to sit with him.
Elise wrote:
My son, if I am lucky, you will know me and this letter will feel unnecessary.
Then:
If I am not, please understand that you were wanted.
Daniel stopped.
He cried.
For the first time since I had known him, he cried like a child.
Not a polished Hartwell man.
Not my husband trying to manage consequences.
A son learning his dead mother had expected to raise him.
Elise also wrote:
Northshore is not your identity. It is work your grandfather and Catherine’s father built. Do not let anyone teach you that owning part of something means owning the people attached to it.
I looked away.
May you like
Margaret had done exactly that.
So, eventually, had Daniel.
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