As Mr. Jefferson sat at his writing desk this morning, two unrelated items of correspondence caused waves of memories of that awful summer twenty-nine years ago, when he helplessly watched as his wife lay dying, to batter down his careful defenses and wash over his mind.
Three days ago he sent what he hopes will be the final letter and document about the ongoing business of the Bathurst Skelton estate -- business that should've been settled three decades ago. Bathurst Skelton had been his dear Patsy's first husband.
Funny how having been a lawyer for other people's estate-related problems doesn't make it any easier to deal with his own.
Then yesterday he received word that Patsy's sister, Elizabeth, has died. He writes, "nearly the last of my early & most beloved friends has now dropt off, and I really view myself as a solitary trunk in the fields with all it's limbs fallen from it."
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