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"Come on, Champ." Leah Wright tugged gently on the leash in hopes of motivating the elderly dog. "Please, Champ. Just a short walk and then you can have your afternoon nap."

She frowned when the Welsh corgi stretched out on the cool tile of her parents' kitchen floor, lifting his head now and again to nibble at the food in his bowl.

"Honestly, you have to be the laziest dog that ever roamed the face of this earth. Or maybe you're a miniature donkey. You're stubborn enough, that's for sure."

Her grumbling didn't affect him in the least. Leah didn't have time for this. She wanted to get on with her plans, not wait around all day for Champ to decide he was ready for exercise.

The University of North Carolina fight song filled the house. The doorbell. Her parents loved the gift from a college pal. Leah found it a bit strange but supposed it was their way of showing support for their alma mater.

She wondered who could be at the door at this time of day. Probably a family friend who wasn't aware her parents were away. She dropped the leash and told the dog, "I'll be back."

Champ rose and ambled after her, the leash trailing behind him. He barked with the song.

Now he moves, Leah thought. "Hush," she told him, not surprised when he continued to bark.

The bell rang again. Surely her parents' friends wouldn't ring the doorbell incessantly. "I'm coming." Leah hurried through the dining room and into the entry hall. She gingerly pushed the curtain aside and peered outside.

A stranger. Handsome with his sweet face and dimples, but he looked angry. Leah hesitated, not sure what she should do. Don't be silly, she told herself. Something could have happened or maybe he had the wrong house. She unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open.

"May I help you?" she asked. Champ continued to bark and she stepped on his leash to stop him from running outside.

The man waved a flowery envelope in her face. "Are you Marty Washington? Uh…" he lifted the envelope and read the label "…Martha Wright?"

Leah recognized the envelope as one she'd mailed earlier in the week. With her parents out of town, she'd decided to surprise them by doing the organization she'd been trying to talk her mom into for months. The letter had been sticking out from underneath the blotter on her mother's desk, so of course she'd mailed it.

"She's my mother. She goes by Marty. I'm Leah."

"Josiah Byrd."

He handed her a card. Leah glanced down and saw from the photo that he was the Byrd in Byrd Realty, a well-known local commercial real estate company.

"Your mother wrote this letter nearly thirty years ago." He slung the words in accusation. "Dad's deceased. I'm curious as to why anyone would mail such garbage after so long. She was obviously angry, and the allegations would break my mother's heart."

Dread and surprise swamped Leah. What had she done? What did the letter say? Fighting back her urge to blame the lateness of delivery on the post office, to say it was a miracle it showed up after all this time, she frowned and said, "I'm sure you're wrong. My mother would never intentionally hurt anyone."

"Well, according to what she wrote here, she was gunning for my dad."

Offended, Leah said, "That isn't something my mother would do."

"Read this." He thrust the letter at her.

Leah pushed the envelope away. While she might be curious about the contents she had no intention of reading anyone's personal communication without their permission. "It's none of my business. Why would you read a letter that wasn't addressed to you?"

Not bothering to hide his disgust, he said, "Because someone mailed it and Dad's not around to read it." Josiah crumpled the envelope in his large extended fist. "And if it's true, my father kept major secrets from my mother."

Leah wished he'd stop flapping that letter around. And explain what he was talking about. Was he saying her mother was a liar? "I'm sure Mom can explain."

"She had no business writing him in the first place. He was a married man."

Anger didn't suit Josiah Byrd. His youthful face showed a gentility that had little to do with anger. "My mother is happily married to my father. They recently celebrated their thirtieth anniversary and are on their second honeymoon. I still say you had no business reading her letter. Isn't that against the law or something?"

Suddenly he looked taller and loomed even larger as he stood there in her parents' doorway frowning down at her. His blue gaze narrowed with disdain. "Look, lady, I'm not here to argue legalities with you. Just tell Marty Washington or Martha Wright or whatever she calls herself that my father is dead and there's no reason for any more of these letters."

Leah struggled to project the same image, pulling herself up to her full five-five height. "I mailed the letter and I'm sure my mom can explain why she wrote your father. Come in. We'll call her right now."

When Champ refused to move, Leah bent to lift the unwilling dog and carried him back inside. Josiah Byrd followed them into the entry hall. She unsnapped the leash and set Champ on the floor. When he darted for the door, Josiah blocked him and pushed it closed.

Leah lifted the cordless phone from the end table and hit the redial button. She'd talked with her mother an hour before. They were visiting her Aunt Gwen in New York before leaving for Spain.

"Hey, Aunt Gwennie. May I speak to Mom?"

"Sure, sweetie. Hang on."

Marty Wright came on the phone. "Leah? Is something wrong?"

"There's a guy here. His name is Josiah Byrd." Her mother's gasp disconcerted Leah. "He has the letter you wrote his dad. I told him you could explain."

"How did he get that letter?"

Her mother's cold, accusatory tone made Leah nervous. She didn't much want to admit her role in the situation. "I mailed it for you."

A distinct pause crossed the miles. "Oh, Leah, what have you done? I never intended for that letter to be mailed."

"But why else would you write it? It was addressed and sealed."