Calvin protested. I shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to reconcile but didn’t know how to contact you. She could’ve stipulated in her will that you needed to be found.” “Seems like she could’ve done that before she died, doesn’t it?” “Maybe she tried and couldn’t find you—or died before she had the chance. I found you in a White Pages search without any trouble, but I had a recent address to begin with. She wouldn’t even have known which state you were living in.” “I’ll grant you that,” he said. “I never told anyone where I was headed when I came here, except your grandpa. Far as I was concerned, he was the only one who needed to know.” No wonder they’d kept in touch. “If you were one of Jeannine’s beneficiaries and she’d left a record of your address, the executor of her estate would’ve sent you a letter when she died.” I’d had some recent experience with wills and such, my current whereabouts being the result of another document in which Calvin had been named.
