I'll Be Seeing You by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

into the study and settled down in her father’s swivel chair. Tomorrow she would begin digging into the history of the Manning Clinic. Researchers at the television station could quickly come up with all the background available on it. And on Dr. Manning, she thought. I’d like to know if there are any skeletons in
his
closet, she told herself.
    Tonight she had a different project in mind, however. She absolutely had to find any shred of evidence that might link her father to the dead woman who resembled her, the woman whose name might be Annie.
    A suspicion had insinuated itself into her mind, a suspicion so incredible that she could not bring herself to consider it yet. She only knew that it was absolutely essential to go through all her father’s personal papers immediately.
    Not surprisingly the desk drawers were neat. Edwin Collins had been innately tidy. Writing paper, envelopes and stamps were precisely placed in the slotted side drawer. His day-at-a-glance calendar was filled out forJanuary and early February. After that, only standing dates were entered. Her mother’s birthday. Her birthday. The spring golf club outing. A cruise her parents had planned to take to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary in June.
    Why would anyone who was planning to disappear mark his calendar for important dates months in advance? she wondered. That didn’t make sense.
    The days he had been away in January or had planned to be away in February simply carried the name of a city. She knew the details of those trips would have been listed in the business appointment book he carried with him.
    The deep bottom drawer on the right was locked. Meghan searched in vain for a key, then hesitated. Tomorrow she might be able to get a locksmith, but she did not want to wait. She went into the kitchen, found the toolbox and brought back a steel file. As she hoped, the lock was old and easily forced open.
    In this drawer stacks of envelopes were held together by rubber bands. Meghan picked up the top packet and glanced through it. All except the first envelope were written in the same hand.
    That one contained only a newspaper clipping from the
Philadelphia Bulletin.
Below the picture of a handsome woman, the obituary notice read:

    Aurelia Crowley Collins, 75, a lifelong resident of Philadelphia, died in St. Paul’s Hospital on 9 December of heart failure.

    Aurelia Crowley Collins! Meghan gasped as she studied the picture. The wide-set eyes, the wavy hair that framed the oval face. It was the same woman, now aged, whose portrait was prominently placed on the table a few feet away.
Her grandmother.
    The date on the clipping was two years old. Her grandmother had been alive until two years ago! Meghan leafed through the other envelopes in the packet she was holding. They all came from Philadelphia. The last one was postmarked two and a half years ago.
    She read one, then another, and another. Unbelieving, she went through the other stacks of envelopes. At random, she kept reading. The earliest note went back thirty years. All contained the same plea.

    Dear Edwin,
    I had hoped that perhaps this Christmas I might have word from you. I pray that you and your family are well. How I would love to see my granddaughter. Perhaps someday you will allow that to happen.
    With love,
    Mother    

    Dear Edwin,
    We are always supposed to look ahead. But as one grows older, it is much easier to look back and bitterly regret the mistakes of the past. Isn’t it possible for us to talk, even on the telephone? It would give me so much happiness.
    Love,    
    Mother

    After a while Meg could not bear to read any more, but it was clear from their worn appearance that her father must have pored over them many times.
    Dad, you were so kind, she thought. Why did you tell everyone your mother was dead? What did she do to you that was so unforgivable? Why did you keep these letters if you were never going to make peace with