Eli set the note down. He looked at Arthur.
"Are these the letters from Mom?" he asked.
"I think so," Arthur said. "Your mother wrote to me, and I never saw them. Daniel kept them. He is sending them back now."
Eli touched the edge of the box with one finger. "How many are there?"
"I do not know yet," Arthur said. "Do you want to open it with me?"
Eli nodded. "Yes. Together."
Arthur cut the tape with a kitchen knife. Inside, under tissue paper, lay a stack of envelopes tied with a faded blue ribbon. The handwriting on the top envelope was neat and familiar, and Arthur felt his breath catch.
"That is her writing," he said quietly. "I would know it anywhere."
Eli leaned closer. "She wrote like that? All straight and neat?"
"She did," Arthur said. "When she was a girl, she used to practice her letters at the kitchen table until every line looked perfect."
Arthur untied the ribbon with care. Some envelopes had stamps. Some had none.
"She wrote so many," Eli said.
"She did," Arthur said. "And I thought she had stopped writing. I thought she did not want to hear from me. I was wrong."
Arthur picked up the top envelope. The paper was soft with age. He opened it slowly, taking care not to tear the flap.
"This one is dated four years ago," he said. "May. Do you want me to read it?"
Eli nodded. He put his spoon down. He folded his hands on the table.
"Read it out loud," he said. "Please."
Arthur cleared his throat. His voice sounded rough at first, and he had to start twice.
"Dear Dad," he read. "I am writing this from our little apartment in Philadelphia. Eli is three now. He is small for his age, but he talks all the time. He asks questions about everything. Yesterday he asked me why the moon follows our car. I told him the moon likes to keep an eye on us."
Eli let out a small breath. His eyes filled, but he did not look away.
"That sounds like Mom," he whispered. "She always said stuff like that."
Arthur went on. "I think about you a lot. I miss you. I miss you so much even when I am angry."
Arthur paused. His hands shook a little, and he set the letter down to steady them.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
"No," Eli said. "Keep going. Please keep going."
Arthur picked the letter up again. "I am not writing to ask for money. I am not writing to ask for anything. I am writing because Eli is growing up, and I want him to know his grandfather. He should know where he comes from. He should know that he has a family. If you ever want to meet him, we would come to New York. If you do not want to, I understand. But I wanted you to know that he exists, and that he is good, and that he is yours too."
Eli pressed his hands against the table. "She said that? She said I should know you?"
"She did," Arthur said. "In her own words."
"She never told me she wrote letters," Eli said. "She told me about you, though. She said if I ever got to you, I could ask you myself."
Arthur smiled through the tightness in his chest. "You did ask me."
Eli was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Can I hear the rest?"
Arthur looked down at the last lines. "Eli lost his first tooth last week. He is brave and funny and stubborn, just like someone else I know."
Eli laughed, a small wet laugh. "I remember that tooth."
Arthur folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. He looked at the whole stack.
"There are so many letters here," he said. "We do not have to read them all today. We can read one each night, if you like. One at a time."
Eli thought about that. "Can I keep this first one?" he asked. "The one about the moon?"
"Of course," Arthur said. "It is yours. It was always meant for us, but it is yours."
Eli held the envelope with both hands, as carefully as he had once held the ring. He stood up and walked down the hall to his room. Arthur followed, stopping in the doorway.
Eli opened the top drawer of his dresser. Inside, folded neatly beside the marked bus schedule and the printed gala invitation, lay the chain with the ring. Eli placed the letter beside them, smoothing the envelope flat with his palm.
"Now they are all together," he said. "The way Mom left them. The way to find you."
Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes," he said. "All together."
Eli closed the drawer gently. "Can we read another one tonight?" he asked.