I thought I was just being neighborly when I started bringing Mrs. Calloway her mail. The 82-year-old had no visitors, so I’d stay for tea, listening to stories about her world travels.
“You have her smile,” she told me once, touching my cheek. When I asked whose smile, she just shook her head.
After her quiet funeral, I assumed our story was over—until the lawyer came.
The letter began: “My dear Kate, I’ve lied to you every day we’ve known each other.”
My mother, it turned out, had been Mrs. Calloway’s estranged daughter. She’d spent years searching for me after my mother’s death, too ashamed to reveal the truth.
Her $20 million estate wasn’t just money—it was an apology, a legacy, and the family I never knew I had. Now her home will become an artist’s retreat, because the greatest gifts often come from the most unexpected places.
