"When were you planning to tell me that you knew my father?"
I looked at my parents. "What is she talking about?"
Neither of them answered.
"Do you want to hear more?" Clara marched up the aisle. "He says here: 'I'm doing this for my daughter, Clara. If something happens to me, I need to know she'll be taken care of. I can't tell you what a relief it is to know that you'll ensure she gets her rightful share of the company if it ever comes to that.'"
Whispers started. Small at first, then spreading and growing louder.
Clara reached the front of the church and stopped. She stared at my parents.
"Do you want to hear more?"
"My rightful share of the company?" Clara asked softly.
My mother stood halfway, then sat again. "This is not the time."
"Is it true?" I asked.
"Mark," my father said sharply.
I looked at him. "Is it true?"
Clara's voice came from behind me, steady and clear. "I didn't come here to humiliate anyone. I came because I found out the life we're standing in front of was built on something hidden from me."
"This is not the time."
The church listened.
I was listening, too. I turned to her and nodded. "Please… I want to hear this."
My mother finally found her voice. "Clara, you are being wildly unfair."
Clara laughed once, and there was no humor in it. "Unfair?"
"That letter is being taken out of context."
