“Elaine… Margaret hoped you’d call.”
“Who is Margaret?”
“She was one of our patients.”
My heart skipped.
“She passed away two weeks ago.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
“Why would her handbag be in my house?”
“Because she left it for you.”
Nothing made sense anymore.
Anna explained that Robert had secretly been working evening shifts at the hospice for months—transporting patients, cleaning rooms, helping wherever he could.
Margaret had grown very fond of him.
“She had no family left,” Anna said. “She wanted the handbag to belong to someone who would appreciate what it truly meant.”
“But she never met me.”
“No,” Anna replied. “But she knew everything Robert told her about you.”
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