Page 76 of A Bone to Pick

The envelope felt heavier than paper should, like holding someone else’s grief, someone else’s guilt.

“I’m not saying he’s bad,” Bea said softly, her hand covering mine. “Good people can have terrible secrets. But sugar, you’re falling in love with him—I see how you light up when he walks in, how you lean toward him like a plant toward sun. You deserve the whole truth, not just the charming sheriff who shows up at exactly the right time with exactly the right words.”

“Maybe the past should stay buried,” I said, surprising myself.

“Maybe,” Bea agreed. “But secrets are like bodies in the marsh, honey. They always surface eventually. Better you know on your terms than have it explode when you least expect it.”

She squeezed my hand once, then turned back to the celebration, leaving me alone with the envelope and the weight of decision.

Some secrets, I thought as I slipped the envelope in the kitchen drawer unopened, could wait for another day. But even as I walked back to join the others, I knew that day would come sooner than I wanted.

The envelope sat heavy in the back of my mind, counting down to a revelation I wasn’t sure I was ready for. But then again, I hadn’t been ready for widowhood, for murder, for falling in love again either.

Maybe being ready was overrated.

Maybe the only thing that mattered was being brave enough to open the envelope when the time came.

But not tonight. Tonight was for victory and friendship and the knowledge that Ruby Bailey and George Pickering finally had the justice they deserved.

Tomorrow, though—tomorrow might be for harder truths.