Owen’s wife.
His best friend since childhood.
The woman he had loved for almost his entire life.
And a woman who had been blind since birth.
Her white cane rested between her knees.
Both hands gripped the handle.
When the surgeon walked away, I collapsed into the chair beside her.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Mara reached for me.
Her fingers found my sleeve.
“Claire.”
“Not now.”
“We need to talk.”
“Mara, Owen just died.”
“I know.”
Something in her voice made me look at her.
Not only grief.
Fear.
“Your parents are coming.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Owen made me promise something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“If anything happened to him, I had to tell you the truth before Richard and Eleanor arrived.”
My parents.
“What truth?”
Mara turned her face toward the elevators as though listening for footsteps.
Then whispered:
“Everything.”