The letter came on a Wednesday. I was sorting the mail at the kitchen counter after lunch when I saw the logo. It was from the Children’s Heart Foundation. I opened it right there because it looked official.

The note thanked us for five years of support. It said the total came to sixty two thousand dollars. I read it twice because none of that money had come from me.

Bob had always been the one who went to their spring gala. He told me it was a work obligation from his old company. I never questioned it much at the time.

I picked up the phone that same afternoon and called the number on the letter. A young woman answered. She sounded cheerful and asked how she could help.

I told her about the letter and said I did not remember making those donations. She asked for our name and pulled up the records.

She said the checks came every January. Twelve thousand four hundred dollars each time. They were personal checks from an account ending in seven seven four one. She even read the name on the account. It was Robert Ellis.

That number meant nothing to me. Our regular account ends in four three two two. I asked if she could tell me anything else about the donor.

She said the checks were always signed by Robert. She asked if there was another Mrs. Ellis I might want to speak with. I thanked her and hung up.

I sat at the table for a long time after that call. Bob and I have been married forty two years. We raised two kids in this house. I thought we told each other the important things.

He started going to the gala about five years ago. The first time he came home late he said the speeches ran long.

The second year he mentioned a dinner after the event. By the third year I stopped asking for details.

I got on the computer the next morning. The foundation had photos from last year’s gala on their site. It took me a while to find the right album but I kept clicking.

There was Bob at the third table. He wore his blue tie. Next to him sat a woman in a green dress. She looked maybe sixty. They were turned toward each other like they were in the middle of a conversation.

I kept looking and found the donor wall in their newsletter. Bob’s name was listed beside the name Carol. It did not say Mr. and Mrs. Ellis. It just had both names side by side.

I printed the photo and the donor page. Then I folded them under the letter and waited for Thursday morning.

Bob came downstairs around eight. He poured his coffee and sat down. He reached for the newspaper but I slid the letter over first.

“I got this yesterday,” I said.

He looked at the envelope. “What is it?”