“Hand me a dishrag, Teddy,” Diane said as she rinsed her sticky fingers under the faucet and caught it midair. “Thanks, honey. I must"ve spilled the wine after your brother read that note aloud.” Her voice trembled, a side effect of her history of subservience to George. While her husband had never physically abused her, it was made clear on multiple occasions that she often ran off her mouth more than he"d like.
Teddy clasped his hands together, pensive and moody over the turn of events. “Of course. Do you really believe Uncle George would"ve sent that to you?”
Diane shook her head and shrugged. “Possibly.”
“I"m afraid I must agree with Caleb. The letter was meant for someone with the surname Glass.” Teddy"s gaze drifted from his aunt to the caterer who appeared to be eavesdropping on
