Chương 7
Nobody photographed her.
That felt like winning something small.
At Nora’s townhouse, June slept until two in the afternoon.
When she woke, the story was everywhere.
Nora had turned off the television.
June turned it on.
Nora turned it off again.
“I want to see.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“You don’t get to decide.”
Nora stared at her.
Then she handed over the remote.
June watched for eleven minutes.
That was enough.
A man she had never met called her “the Mercer heiress.”
A woman on another channel said the slap represented “a family dynasty cracking in real time.”
Someone froze the video at the instant cake hit Oliver and drew a red circle around the locket.
A commentator claimed Grant Mercer’s late wife had been buried after a “mysterious alpine death,” which made June throw the remote onto the sofa.
“Turn it off.”
Nora did.
June sat with her feet tucked under her.
“Do they know she wasn’t in the grave?”
“Some do now.”
“Because Dad said it.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t anybody know before?”
“The funeral was private. The recovery details weren’t public.”
“Did Grandma know?”
Nora hesitated.
June gave her a look.
“Yes.”
“My teachers?”
“I don’t know.”
“My friends’ parents?”
“Probably not.”
June leaned back.
“So random people on TV know something about my mom that I didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“That is messed up.”
“Yes.”
Nora sat beside her, leaving space.
After a while, June asked, “What is Morrow and Finch?”
“I called an attorney who handles your mother’s estate.”
“And?”
“There is a firm by that name in Boston. They manage private archival storage.”
“Vaults?”
“Yes.”
“Can we open 312?”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“Because real life enjoys paperwork.”
June looked at her.
“That sounds like something Mom would say.”
Nora’s mouth tightened.
“She said it a lot.”
The first request to access Vault 312 was denied.
Morrow & Finch would not discuss the account by telephone.
The second request, submitted by Eleanor Mercer’s estate attorney with a copy of her death certificate, was also denied because the account had been registered under a separate holding name.
The third produced a response from the firm’s counsel requesting proof that Nora Shaw was the person referenced in the account instructions.
Nothing opened immediately.
Nobody produced a magical key.
June went to school on Monday.
That was worse.
Her principal met her at a side entrance.
Two classmates asked whether she had really “attacked a rich kid with cake.”
June said yes to one and no to the other just to be difficult.
At lunch, her friend Sadie sat across from her and peeled the label off a water bottle.
“My mom says I’m not supposed to ask about it.”
“Then don’t.”
“Okay.”
They ate for thirty seconds.
Sadie said, “Was the cake good?”
June stared at her.
Sadie shrugged.
“It looked expensive.”
June laughed so hard milk came out her nose.
She hated herself for laughing.
Then she laughed harder.
That afternoon, June found Nora waiting in the pickup line.
Usually June walked.
“I’m not a baby.”
“There are photographers outside the house.”
“Oh.”
They drove in silence.
At a red light, Nora said, “Oliver sent you something.”
“No.”
“I haven’t shown it to you.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“What is it?”
Nora looked over.
June scowled.
“A letter.”
“Like on paper?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I assume because somebody told him not to text you.”
June watched traffic.
“Can I see it?”
Nora handed her an envelope at home.
Oliver’s handwriting leaned downhill.
June,
I’m sorry I took your mom’s locket and held it over you. I thought it was my mom’s and then after she told me it was old family stuff I thought you were acting weird. I did not know it was buried. I also told Theo to block you and that was mean. You shouldn’t have said my jacket looked like a curtain but I should not have done the other things. My mom says I should not contact you right now but Dad says saying sorry is not contact if Nora gives it to you. I don’t know if that makes sense.
Oliver
P.S. The cake was lemon.
June read it twice.
Then she put it in a drawer.
She did not answer.
Three days later, Nora received confirmation that she was, in fact, the Nora named in Morrow & Finch’s account instructions.
Eleanor had established the archive fourteen months before her death.
She had listed Nora as successor access custodian.
Grant had not been listed.
Celeste had not been listed.
The archive firm agreed to release an inventory, but because Eleanor’s death involved unresolved estate litigation, the actual contents could only be inspected under supervised conditions with estate counsel present.
They flew to Boston the following week.
June went too.
Nora initially said she should stay in Denver.
June looked at her.
Nora booked a third ticket.
Morrow & Finch occupied three quiet floors of an old building near the financial district. There were no actual vault doors visible from the lobby, which disappointed June.
Vault 312 turned out to be a climate-controlled storage compartment roughly the size of a kitchen cabinet.
Inside were six document boxes.
An external hard drive.
Three sealed envelopes.
And a red spiral notebook from a grocery store.
June recognized the notebook.
Her mother used them for everything—packing lists, grocery lists, questions for doctors, things people said during arguments.
She once made a list called REASONS JUNE CANNOT HAVE A HORSE.
There had been twenty-three reasons.
June had spent a weekend writing rebuttals.
Nora sat down when she saw it.
The supervising attorney cataloged everything before anyone touched it.
The process took an hour and seventeen minutes.
June counted.
Only then did they begin.
The first box contained foundation records.
The second contained copies of emails.
The third held property documents connected to companies June did not understand.
The fourth contained printouts of bank transactions.
The fifth held records about Celeste.
May you like
The sixth contained records about Grant.
June looked at her father’s name on the label.
