A month later, a few days before Christmas, Lizzie found out. She was packing a few more of Audrey’s things that she’d found in the bottom drawer of a chest in their room, and came upon an envelope that said only “To Whom It May Concern” on it in Audrey’s handwriting. She hesitated, and then opened it, since there was no one to send it to. It was a handwritten will Audrey had written when they came to England and started flying missions. She acknowledged that it was wartime, and her job as an air evac transport nurse was dangerous. She referred to a bank account at a bank in Maryland and her family house in Annapolis, which were all she had of some value. Lizzie’s eyes widened as she read the letter. She had left it all to her beloved friend Elizabeth Hatton, whom she said was like a sister to her, and whom she wanted to have whatever her worldly possessions were at the time of her death. The house would have considerable value. It was in a solid residential neighborhood, and the money was what her mother had left Audrey when she died. She had spent none of it. She had told Lizzie that she didn’t want to move back to Annapolis after the war. It would make her too sad with everyone gone. She had talked about moving to New York, or Boston if Lizzie returned there. But the value of what she had left would make a difference to Lizzie now, and to Ed.

There was a footnote on the letter, which said that she had sent a copy of her will to her bank, to handle everything in the event of her death.

Lizzie put on a warm jacket and hurried to Ed’s barracks. He had just come in from the pub with a few of his friends, and he came downstairs to talk to Lizzie.

“Is something wrong?”

She showed him the letter and he read it and looked at her. “Wow, Liz, that’s amazing. Generous to the end. She loved you.” He had never doubted it, and he was glad for Lizzie. It sounded like a nice nest egg, from what Lizzie described of the house.

“Do you realize what this is?”

“Yes, a house and a nice bank account. Do you want to live in Annapolis?” He wasn’t sure where it was. It was a long way from Dublin, in any case.

“No. Audrey didn’t either, after the war. It’s a nice chunk of money. I’ll sell the house. This is medical school for both of us,” she said, beaming at him. “I won’t need my father’s permission now. I can pay for it myself.” He smiled at her and gave her a hug.