Page 117 of Vows We Never Made

“Dang. It still works.”

“I hope so,” Ethan says, but he’s distracted, still frowning at the hidden cupboard. “There’s something else in here. What else did you guys steal?”

“Huh? I have no clue.” I forget about the lighter as I lean over, trying to see past him.

He slowly pulls out two ancient pieces of paper stuck together.

They’re crinkled and slightly water damaged, having clearly been left there for a long time. One of the edges is uneven and feathered soft, like it’s been ripped.

I put the lighter in my pocket and step closer. “What is it?”

He turns it over, frowning at the spidery black writing.

“A letter, I think. From Gramps.”

I chance a quick look at Ethan’s face, trying to see his reaction. “Do you think we should read it? Someone clearly hid it away.”

“Looks like it’s written to my mother,” he says absently, like he doesn’t hear me. “Fuck, he must’ve wrote this a long time ago. Before I was born, I think.” He holds the two pieces together, trying to read it, but the ink looks faded and there isn’t good light.

“What does it say?”

“I’m trying.” He frowns. “Can’t quite make it out. Something about my dad, for sure. Here it says…I wish you would slow down, darling. Don’t do anything rash. However, since I’ve ‘done enough damage’—your very accurate words—I won’t dare stop you from taking your money and leaving. Your forgiveness is all I will ever ask for on bended knee.”

“Damage? What damage?” I stare at the faded paper. “What did he do?”

“No clue. It doesn’t say.” Ethan folds up the two pieces of paper, shrugs, and puts them in his breast pocket. “I’ll take abetter look later. Might explain why they were estranged my whole life.”

Weird.

I think back to what I know about Elvira Blackthorn, which isn’t much.

She didn’t exactly come around to see us when we’d spend our summers here. In hindsight, her absence was glaring.

Whydidshe avoid her father like he was poison?

From what little I’ve seen, she seems like a cartoon of wealth and power, living an easy life centered around chasing comfort.

She seems more concerned with social clout than she ever was with raising her kids. But if some tragic backstory made her that way, well, that’s a little more interesting.

But I shouldn’t get carried away.

This isn’t some amped up Netflix drama.

These are real people.

If Elvira has more dimensions than a showy love of wealth and luxury, that’s hardly a bad thing. Maybe Leonidas caused her to be that way.

Except I can’t believe that, either.

The rare times he mentioned his daughter at all, he always danced around the subject. Deep down, I think he was sad that Elvira kept her distance.

I eye Ethan’s pocket, wishing I’d had the guts to read the letter myself.

“Maybe we should take a closer look now?”

“No point. I’ll ask Mom later,” Ethan says, sounding as wary as I am about it. “I wonder if Mom found your hiding place before Margot did. Or hell, was it Gramps? Think that empty bottle next to it was Ouzo. He loved that stuff, always said it took him back to his trips to Greece when he was young.”

“It’s weird thinking about them coming here like we did…”