As I sit outside with the sun slowly beginning its descent, it feels like nothing could be wrong in this world. Could I actually do what I told Judy I’ve done, leave the past in the past? Could Ezra and I just focus on each other and the future we could have together? It’s not such an easy question to answer after hearing about so many things that he neglected to tell me. Withholding the truth is as good as lying, Leo used to tell the girls whenever they wouldn’t admit to a wrongdoing. I always disagreed, thinking it wasn’t quite as bad as a lie—until now.

It’s only nine thirty, and I’ve run out of things to do. I hung out on the deck until the bugs arrived, then cleaned up the kitchen, called the girls, and watched some crappy TV. As I sit now in stillness on the couch, the question I’ve been avoiding all evening refuses to be ignored—How well do you know Ezra, really?

It’s just light snooping to begin with, pulling open some drawers to see what they hold, going through the pile of bills on his counter, looking at what’s in the medicine cabinet. As I go, I convince myself that I’m just getting to know him better. That if he’d had anything to hide, he certainly wouldn’t have invited me to stay over for the night without him here.

I wander down the hallway and into his office. It’s meticulous, just like the rest of the place. Going through the filing cabinet, I find nothing other than well-kept records on work he’s done at local cottages and tax documents. The desk doesn’t hold anything of interest either. Could the man literally have nothing to hide?

There’s an antique wooden trunk sitting in the corner of the room. I try to open it, but it’s locked. I look around the office for the key but don’t find one, so I decide to move on to the bedroom.

Nothing but clothes and shoes occupy the closet; pens, half-finished crosswords, and a broken Fitbit rest on the bedside table. It’s a disappointing search, and I’m not ready to give up just yet. I return to the trunk in the office. It’s the only thing that’s locked in this whole place. Why?

I go to the key rack in the front hall, but there’s nothing there that would fit such an old lock. So, I head into the kitchen to find something I can use to jimmy the lock open. Determination to get inside that trunk has eclipsed any guilt I might have had over snooping.