“I wasn’t guessing. I already knew the money was there.”
For eleven years, we had believed Pete was making no effort.
The reality was almost impossible to absorb.
He had been trying every month.
The front door opened.
Pete entered carrying a small box.
When he saw us holding the binder, he stopped.
George stared at him.
“You were saving all this time?”
Pete nodded.
“I had to.”
“You could have told me.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Pete looked toward the office window before replying.
“Because I was ashamed.”
He walked over and rested a hand against the chair Nancy had used.
“The first year I honestly believed I’d repay you in months.”
He smiled sadly.
“The treatments became more expensive.”
“We kept falling behind.”
His gaze dropped toward the binder.
“I realised I couldn’t keep making promises I wasn’t able to keep.”
“So I made a different promise.”
“The day I paid you back, I wanted it to be everything.”
“No more excuses.”
“No more partial payments.”
A weak smile appeared.
“Nancy wouldn’t let me miss a single deposit.”
“‘George will understand,’ I’d say.”
He wiped his eyes.
“She always answered the same way: ‘George trusted us.’”
“‘We’re going to honor that trust.’”
Pete opened the small box.
Several folders had been arranged neatly inside.
He removed one and handed it to George.
George opened it.
His eyes moved across the document.
I watched disbelief turn into shock.
At the bottom was the final account balance.
It exceeded the total George had recorded in his notebook.
“The investment performed better than anyone expected,” Pete explained.
“The adviser called me last week.”
“He said after taxes there would still be more than enough to repay every loan.”
He paused.
“And enough to repay the funeral money.”
His breath shook.
“But Nancy deserved the funeral she wanted.”
George slowly closed the folder.
For several moments, neither brother spoke.
“I never imagined Nancy would be gone before I got the chance to show you.”
Silence settled over the office.
George looked again at the binder.
Inside a transparent sleeve was a folded letter addressed to him.
Nancy’s handwriting was instantly recognizable.
George unfolded it carefully.
