I thought my quiet suburban life was built on truth, until my elderly neighbor died and left me a letter that shattered everything I believed about my family. Digging up his secret forced me to question who I was, and whether some betrayals could ever be forgiven.
I used to believe I was the kind of woman who could spot a lie anywhere.
My mother, Nancy, taught me the value of straight lines and straight talk: keep your porch clean, your hair brushed, and your secrets locked up tight.
I’m Tanya, a 38 year old mother of two, a wife of a charming man, and the reigning queen of my block’s neighborhood watch spreadsheet. My only real drama has been whether to plant tulips or daffodils along the mailbox.
I used to believe I was the kind of woman who could spot a lie…
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