Chapter 16
Miles contacted me after eighteen months.
One letter.
Not apology.
Explanation.
He said Kingsley had become unstable because too many voices reached me directly.
He still believed the wall was necessary.
That almost disappointed me.
People do not always learn.
Sometimes consequence merely reveals who they intend to remain.
I did not answer.
Then he wrote Agnes.
That surprised me.
She showed me.
He apologized for the fire.
Specifically.
For ordering the flour delivery.
For knowing she would still be inside.
For deciding her life was acceptable collateral because he believed protecting Kingsley justified it.
Agnes read the letter twice.
Then put it in the recipe book.
“Forgive him?”
I asked.
“No.”
“Why keep it?”
“Because apology is still information.”
Fair.
She never replied.
Her choice.
Harold died naturally the following winter.
No dramatic final confession.
No secret box.
No deathbed absolution.
He simply died.
At the memorial, people praised his loyalty.
Some meant it.
Some ignored what he did.
I did neither.
When asked to speak, I said:
“Harold served Kingsley for decades. He also believed control and loyalty were the same thing. They aren’t.”
Short.
True.
Some people hated it.
Good.
Afterward Rafe asked whether I felt guilty.
“A little.”
“About?”
“Speaking badly of the dead.”
He shrugged.
“They’re hard to offend.”
Useful man.
Then I went to Agnes’s bakery.
She had cinnamon rolls.
I took one without paying.
May you like
She made me wash a tray.
Some systems deserve restoration.
