"What did she say?" I said.
"She said: I understand. Please keep the letter. Someone will need it eventually."
A pause.
"I kept it," Eleanor said. "For forty-three years. I kept it because she had asked me to and because she had been right that someone would need it eventually, and because keeping it was the only thing I could do and doing nothing was not something I was willing to accept."
I looked at the garden. At Dax with Isolde, stopped at a bed of something that Isolde was apparently finding significant — she had the focused, forward posture of someone conducting an important assessment.
"The letter," I said.
"It's in the estate archive," Eleanor said. "I have it ready for you. I thought you should have it — not as a document for the authority record, which is already closed. A
