Rebecca’s husband Lester was dead and there in the bottom drawer of his desk was a box filled with photographs, several of Lester alone, but also pictures of him with other people, people Rebecca didn’t know. There was a woman about Rebecca’s age and two children—a boy and a girl—and they were at the beach in one picture and at Disneyworld in another. So many questions swam around in her head; after twenty-five years of marriage, they were bound to. All she would have to do is wait. The answers were likely to surface. Tomorrow was the reading of Lester’s will.