I sat near the back. The service was short, simple, dignified in the quiet way Charles himself had been.
When it ended, I stayed a little longer than everyone else, not ready to leave yet, not sure what I was waiting for.
That's when a man in a dark suit approached me.
"Are you Charlotte?"
I nodded, surprised. "Yes."
A man in a dark suit approached me.
"My name is Liam. I'm Mr. Wilson's attorney." He extended his hand, and I shook it, still processing the word attorney attached to Charles's name. "He left something for you. I was told to give it to you personally, if you came."
He handed me an old shoebox, the cardboard soft with age, held together at one corner with tape that had yellowed.
"Mr. Wilson left this for you," he said again, gently, like he wanted to make sure I'd heard it the first time.
