“So your solution was a shovel? In our backyard? At this time of the morning?”
Carter looked ashamed.
“It wasn’t a plan, Nala. It was panic. Sally was on this floor, sobbing at midnight. We had a few hours before sunrise. We worried that she would suddenly arrive. Your waterproof suitcase was the first thing I saw in the garage, and the yard was what my tired brain came up with. I see now that we weren’t thinking straight.”
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Carter looked ashamed.
“You have a safe, Carter. A literal safe. In the closet.”
“I know. But the person knows where it is and knows the combination.”
Then my husband’s phone buzzed from where he’d dropped it. It lay facedown in the wet grass, humming loudly enough to carry through the open back door.
He walked out, picked up the phone, and let it ring out.
“The person knows where it is.”
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Two seconds later, Sally’s phone chimed on the counter. I hadn’t noticed it there when I rushed outside earlier.
I got to it first and read the message notification out loud.
“Need to see you today. Just to clear the air. Love you.”
Both of them turned the color of paper.
I hadn’t noticed it there.
“Who’s texting you about clearing the air, Sally?”
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My SIL opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it.
Small footsteps came down the stairs.
Noah appeared in the doorway in his green dinosaur pajamas, his hair still a mess, holding the stuffed shark he refused to sleep without.
He looked at the suitcase, the mud on his father’s arms, and his aunt on the floor.
Small footsteps came down the stairs.
“Are you guys making a garden?”
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I almost laughed or cried. I did neither because my son was standing there, needing an answer.
“Kind of, buddy. Go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”
He nodded solemnly and padded away.
I turned back to Carter. My voice came out steadier than I felt.
I almost laughed or cried.
“You’re going to tell me everything. Every name. Every dollar. What’s in that envelope? Who’s on your phone? All of it.”
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“Nala…”
“Or Noah and I will leave this house before breakfast. I mean it, Carter. Nine years of trust won’t survive one more secret.”
He nodded, pale under the kitchen light. His throat worked.
“Open the envelope.”
“What’s in that envelope?”
***
Sunrise bled across the porch as I tore open the envelope addressed to Clara.
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Inside were a legal notice and the paperwork Sally had been tricked into signing. My MIL’s name was everywhere.
“Clara,” I said.
Carter nodded. “I found out about it a few days ago. I was trying to fix it quietly. It’s the inheritance Mom had placed in trust for Noah’s education. Sally didn’t even realize she’d signed papers that would let Clara take control of it.”
My MIL’s name was everywhere.
He continued, “Mom had already searched for the documents when she visited before you came home. I pretended not to notice. That voicemail you heard at dinner? It wasn’t just her checking in. She’d been leaving messages like that all weekend, fishing for information. I stopped answering because I knew exactly what she was after.”
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