I returned to the archive four weeks later.
The first morning, Margaret let me in through the side entrance while the security technician finished replacing the locks. I used a new password that I had not shared with anyone. I signed the access log. I checked the backup system and the donor files. It took most of the day to confirm that no other recordings had been copied without permission.
When I found Dad's folder, I didn't open it.
I spent the afternoon reviewing the donation agreements from the last five years. There were more missing signatures than I expected. A few forms needed clarification. One recording had been marked for public use without the donor's initials. I made a list, called the people involved, and asked them to decide again.
That evening, I walked down to the pie
