involved uncovering precisely such deception.
And I intended to let the evidence tell the story.
At five thirty, Brittany knocked on my bedroom door.
“Morning, Margaret! Ready for your big trip?”
I was already dressed, sitting in the armchair.
“Almost.”
Her gaze shifted toward my suitcase.
“Want me to carry that downstairs?”
“No, thank you.”
She pressed her lips together.
Ethan called from the hallway, “Mom, I’ll drive you.”
Brittany immediately intervened.
“I’ll take her. You have an early meeting.”
My son hesitated before agreeing.
I wondered whether he knew
