When Layla’s husband’s grandmother dies, a buried chest and a final confession unravel everything she thought she knew about the man she married. As secrets surface, Layla must choose between protecting the past or telling the truth, for the sake of her daughters and herself.I always knew Eleanor had secrets.But I thought they were old ones, quiet, harmless secrets. Things like hidden cookie or gumbo recipes or the name of her first kiss.Not this.Not what I found buried under the apple tree.It was definitely not the kind of secret that makes you question who you married, and what you let into your home, into your bed, and into your children’s lives.

My husband’s parents had died when he was little, and his grandmother Eleanor, raised him in the creaky old house we eventually moved into.That house smelled like lavender and wood polish and felt like a place where nothing shocking could happen.And yet…The night Eleanor died, she asked me to dig up something she’d buried under the old apple tree. I didn’t ask questions, of course. I just nodded and helped her into bed.She looked at me one last time, eyes glassy but fierce, and said: “You’ll understand one day, Layla. Just promise me you’ll look under the tree.”I promised. What else could I doEleanor passed quietly the following morning.