I didn’t want to, but I turned to my phone, compelled, in a self-flagellating way, to check the most recent news alert. “She—there’s apparently a recording of the 9-1-1 call Gregory made when he was—during the heart attack,” I paraphrased. “You can hear her in the background. And her name is on the police report the Times found. She was there. She was with him.” I looked up at my mother. “He didn’t die alone, Cricket.”

“I’m furious,” she said, and I nodded. Her arms were crossed, her expression blazed. The discovery that she wasn’t her husband’s only—anger was more than expected. But then she continued: “He broke the rules. I told him no sleepovers. I told him she couldn’t be in our houses.”

This I didn’t expect. “You knew about her?”

“Of course,” she said, as though it should be that obvious. When we were silent, she shrugged. “We were going through a rough patch.”

“Why,” I asked, trying to be patient with her, “didn’t you tell me?”

“It was private. Between your father and me.”

“No,” I replied. “It wasn’t. I knew.”

“How did you know?” asked Wallis. Her hands, with their inflamed fingers, dropped to her lap.

“Our father never went to the lake house alone,” I said. “I figured he had to have been with another woman.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” said Cricket, sitting forward in her chair, the popped collar of her starched white shirt almost reaching her earlobes, “when I told you he died alone.”

“But I didn’t know you were lying,” I admitted. “I thought you truly didn’t know about it.”

“That’s almost sweet.” Cricket smoothed her skirt over her knees, turned to Wallis. “Wallis, I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“I already knew, too.” Wallis traced the brocade embroidering on the couch, following the petals and the stems, the intricate gold blossoms. “I’ve known for a while. When Dad visited me in Seoul last year, he left his email up on my laptop by mistake. He asked me not to tell you guys.”

“So, we all knew,” I said.

“But no one admitted to knowing,” said Wallis.

“He was a great man,” Cricket said. “We didn’t want to ruin that for each other.”

“He was a cheater.” Wallis rose, began to pace. “And a liar. And now they are accusing him of being a thief.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Cricket said.

“If you do,” I said, “please tell us, right now.”

“I don’t. He’s an adulterer, but he wouldn’t steal money from his own office. He’s not a criminal. I wasn’t married to a criminal.”

From my spot, cross-legged on the carpet, I took hold of her hands, guided her body so she was facing me. “Cricket,” I said. “What if you’re wrong?”