She also looked worried.
“Emma,” she said softly. “You've grown into such a strong woman.”
Emma gave a small smile.
“It's good to see you again.”
Elisabeth invited her inside.
The apartment was warm and tidy, with bookshelves along one wall and photographs arranged near the window.
A kettle was already heating in the kitchen.
For several minutes, Elisabeth asked about Sophie, Emma's work, and how the family had managed since Michael's death.
Emma answered politely.
But eventually she could not bear the uncertainty any longer.
“You said my father left something for me.”
Elisabeth nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he give it to me himself?”
The older woman lowered her eyes.
“Because he was afraid.”
Emma frowned.
“My father wasn't afraid of much.”
“People are often most afraid when someone they love might be hurt.”
Elisabeth stood and walked toward the bedroom.
When she returned, she carried a brown envelope.
