It read like something written in the middle of a very bad week—half update, half confession. Money was tight. They had left their old life too quickly. People were asking for what they were owed, and the smaller house had clearly been a place they ran to, not chose.
The return address in the corner was faded, but still legible: Mara Whitaker. At the bottom, beneath the signature, she had written: Tell Jamie we’ll dig it up together when things are better. Brian went through the rest of the letters next, but most were too water-damaged to read cleanly.