Mr. Whitmore. »
« If you’re reading this, I’m no longer here. »
After a second, Richie looked up, squinting.
« Honey, why would a dead man send you to his backyard? »
« I… He wants me to dig the area by his apple tree. »
My daughter’s voice drifted from inside. « Mom! Where’s the bubble-gum cereal? »
Richie gave me a worried look. « Are you okay? »
« I don’t know, Rich. It’s… strange. I barely knew him. »
« Why would a dead man send you to his backyard? »
Gemma called again, louder. « Mom! »
I snapped back to the kitchen, dropping the letter onto the table.
« It’s in the cabinet next to the fridge, Gem. Don’t add sugar. »
« Well, it sounds like he wanted you to know something, Tan. Are you going to do it? » Richie asked, following me.
Meanwhile, our youngest, Daphne, ran in, her hair wild from sleep. « Can we go to Mr. Whitmore’s yard after school? I want to get more leaves to paint. »
« Are you going to do it? »
Richie and I exchanged a look.
« Maybe later, » I said. « Let’s just get through the day first. »
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