Brynn Weller wore a dead woman's name over her heart. The tag said LISA BEAN in white letters, pinned to a security uniform that fit her almost right. In two days Brynn would walk into the family estate reading and let the lawyers call her Lisa. She had practiced Lisa's three voices for weeks: the phone voice, the tired voice, the sister voice. She could switch between them without a pause. But a voice does not have a face, and that was the problem she woke to now. The motel phone rang at dawn. Brynn answered in the tired voice. It was the estate clerk, confirming names for the reading. He mentioned an old friend of Lisa's, someone who had grown up next door. That woman would be there. She had known Lisa's face for thirty years. Brynn set the phone down. Her hands shook. Voices could not save her from eyes that remembered. She needed to know exactly what that friend remembered, and she needed to change it before the reading. A cat watched her from the windowsill. It was black and white, sharp-eyed, with green-yellow eyes fixed on her like a judge. It had wandered into her room days ago and stayed. She fed it and it tolerated her. Now it sat on the folder where she kept Lisa's photos. Brynn nudged the cat aside and spread the photos out. In one, Lisa stood beside a woman with silver hair and a laugh caught mid-sound. On the back, in Lisa's writing: *Margaret, still owes me money.* Brynn had found the friend. Now she made a plan. She drove to the address on the photo. The house sat past the edge of the run-down strip where her motel leaned into its faded paint. Brynn knocked, wearing plain clothes, the uniform hidden in her bag. The silver-haired woman opened the door. Up close her eyes were cloudy, pale at the center. "Margaret?" Brynn asked, in her own voice. "Who's there? Speak up, dear. I can't see faces anymore. Two years now." Brynn stood very still. The one witness who could destroy her could not see her at all. She almost laughed. Then she used the sister voice, soft and warm. "Margaret, it's Lisa." The old woman's face broke open with joy. "Lisa! Oh, I thought you'd forgotten me." She reached out and held Brynn's arm with both hands. Brynn felt the grip and understood what she had won. The friend would swear before the lawyers that Lisa Bean was alive. A blind woman's word carried weight, and she believed with her whole heart. But Margaret was still talking. "You must meet my nephew at the reading. He's a lawyer. He handled Lisa's file himself." Her fingers tightened. "He never forgets a face. He met you once, dear. Do you remember?" Brynn did not remember. Because it had never happened to her.