Chương 5
I looked at the brass key resting in the metal box.
For the first time since Fiona died, grief was no longer the only thing filling the house.
Something else had entered with it.
Something old.
Something Fiona had hidden in the place where she rested her head every night.
I checked the clock above the stove.
3:26.
First County Savings opened at nine.
Daniel followed my eyes.
“We go before the funeral home appointment.”
“Yes.”
“And we don’t tell anyone.”
“No.”
He looked toward the dark hallway.
“What if they come back early?”
I thought of Denise opening drawers.
Patrick asking about money.
Laura separating jewelry into little piles.
Then I folded Fiona’s letter, put every document back into the metal box, and wrapped the box again in the floral handkerchief.
“We leave before they wake up enough to start asking questions.”
Daniel nodded.
I carried the pillow upstairs with me anyway.
At seven-thirty the next morning, Denise knocked on our bedroom door without waiting for an answer.
I had slept for maybe forty minutes.
The pillow was inside an old laundry basket under two folded blankets at the foot of the bed.
“Mabel?”
I sat up too quickly and felt the room tilt.
“What?”
“We’re going to the funeral home at ten, right?”
“Yes.”
“Patrick wants to meet there at nine-thirty.”
“We’ll be there.”
She pushed the door open another inch.
“You okay?”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
Denise looked embarrassed by the obviousness of the answer.
“Right.”
She stayed there.
I waited.
Finally she said, “Laura thinks Mom wanted the blue dress.”
“What blue dress?”
“The one she wore to Caleb’s graduation.”
“She hated that dress.”
Denise blinked.
“She did?”
“She said it made her look like a church curtain.”
That startled a tired smile out of her.
“God, that does sound like her.”
For half a second, we were simply two women who had both known Fiona’s sharp tongue.
Then Denise’s gaze moved toward the laundry basket.
I swung my feet to the floor.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I was looking at the blankets.”
“You need blankets?”
“No.”
She rubbed her thumb along the doorframe.
“Patrick was asking whether Mom kept paperwork in here.”
My pulse kicked.
“What kind of paperwork?”
“I don’t know.”
“He asked you to look?”
“He asked all of us.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Denise’s shoulders stiffened.
“Why are you being weird?”
“I haven’t slept.”
“Neither have I.”
I stood.
“Then maybe neither of us should be doing this right now.”
Her mouth tightened.
For years Denise had treated me like someone both essential and slightly suspect, useful when Fiona needed help but somehow less legitimate when family decisions were made.
She leaned back into the hallway.
“Fine.”
Then she added, “Patrick says there might be old property records.”
I looked at her.
“Property records?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Why would he care about those now?”
She shrugged, but it came a beat too late.
“Estate stuff.”
“What estate?”
Her eyes met mine.
There it was.
Not knowledge exactly.
Unease.
“I don’t know, Mabel.”
She left before I could ask anything else.
I closed the door and stood with my hand on the knob.
Daniel came out of the bathroom buttoning his shirt.
“You heard?”
“All of it.”
“He knows something.”
“Patrick?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
“You are about to tell me not to assume the worst.”
I picked up my jeans from the chair.
“I was actually about to tell you to get the box.”
He looked at me.
“That’s new.”
“Denise just went hunting for property records.”
Daniel crossed to the laundry basket and lifted the blankets.
The pillow lay there, flattened and harmless-looking.
He removed the metal box from inside the torn seam where I had pushed it before dawn.
“You put it back?”
“I didn’t want somebody finding an empty pillow and getting curious.”
“That’s either smart or completely insane.”
“Those can coexist.”
He tucked the box into his old canvas work bag.
The brass key went into the coin pocket of my jeans.
At eight-ten we left through the kitchen.
Patrick was standing beside the counter drinking coffee.
His coat was still on.
“You two headed somewhere?”
Daniel did not slow down.
“Errand.”
“What errand?”
I reached for my purse.
“Coffee.”
Patrick glanced toward the machine three feet from him.
“There’s coffee right here.”
Daniel opened the back door.
“Mabel likes expensive coffee when she’s emotionally unstable.”
“I do not.”
“You bought a six-dollar latte after my vasectomy.”
“That was a difficult day.”
“For you?”
“Extremely.”
Patrick looked from one of us to the other.
Normally he might have laughed.
This time he did not.
“You’re still coming to the funeral home?”
“Yes,” I said.
“At ten?”
“Yes.”
He set the mug down.
“Mom ever say anything to either of you about old farm papers?”
Daniel’s hand tightened around the strap of the canvas bag.
I stepped between them without making it obvious.
“Why?”
“Because I need to know what she kept.”
“You need to know?”
Patrick rubbed his jaw.
“Jesus, Mabel, I’m trying to get things organized.”
“For what?”
“For the estate.”
“She didn’t have an estate.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“I thought it was exactly how it worked when somebody had no money.”
Patrick’s eyes flicked toward Daniel.
“Can we not do this today?”
“You brought it up.”
“I asked a question.”
“And I asked one back.”
Daniel said, “We’ll see you at ten.”
He opened the door wider.
Outside, the cold air bit straight through my sweater.
Patrick called after him.
“Dan.”
Daniel turned.
Patrick looked at the canvas bag.
“What’s in there?”
“My work stuff.”
“You’re not going to work.”
“I know.”
For a moment, neither brother moved.
Then Patrick nodded once.
“Fine.”
We walked to the truck.
I did not breathe normally until Daniel backed out of the driveway.
“Work stuff?”
“It was the first thing I thought of.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
May you like
“So are you.”
“I’m better than that.”
