Part 2: My millionaire husband left me nothing in his will after 48 years of marriage except a note with an address — when I arrived there, what I saw made me fall to my knees.

I opened the first.

Year One.

Margaret burned dinner tonight and blamed the oven. I love her more than I did yesterday.

I laughed.

Then opened another.

Year Six.

Our fourth store opened today. Margaret says we need to hire more people before I work myself into an early grave. She's right, as usual.

Another.

Year Eleven.

We learned today that another treatment won't help us have a child.

Margaret cried in the bathroom because she thought I wouldn't hear her.

I wish I could tell her she's already given me a life richer than I ever imagined.

I stopped breathing.

Tears streamed down my face.

I opened another.

Year Twenty.

Margaret spent the afternoon helping a student apply for college. She came home exhausted and happy. She doesn't know that young man called me afterward to say she changed his life.

Another.

Year Thirty-Two.

She still thinks she isn't a businesswoman. Today, she solved a staffing problem our executives spent two weeks arguing about.