The letter from the lawyer was simple.
Loretta held the crisp envelope between her fingers. It had her mother's handwritten.
Her thumb ran over the raised seal of her mother’s estate, the gold embossing catching the light from the kitchen window like a cruel reminder of what she lost.
Martin stood across from her at the kitchen island, arms crossed, breakfast forgotten at his side, watching her.
"Well?" he asked, brows lifted.
She sighed and lowered the paper. "We have to go to the charity gala."
Martin blinked. "Excuse me?"
She unfolded the letter and read aloud, her voice dripping with disbelief. "It was my wish that both you and Martin attend the annual Rosenfield Foundation Charity Gala. As you know, I am longtime donor and supporter of orphan care. Attendance is mandatory as pa
