Chapter 6 - The Empty Kitchen Drawer
Mom’s house still smelled like lavender soap and coffee.
That almost destroyed me.
I stood in the kitchen doorway while Benjamin and Maya waited behind me.
Yesterday, people had filled the rooms with casseroles, flowers, whispered condolences, and the awkward silence people use when death scares them.
Now the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I opened the top kitchen drawer.
Forks.
Rubber bands.
Two dead batteries.
No key ring.
I checked the second drawer.
Nothing.
“Maybe I moved it,” I said.
I searched the counter, the small ceramic bowl by the phone, Mom’s purse, the basket where she kept receipts.
No keys.
Benjamin did not say what we were all thinking.
Somebody had taken them.
I called my aunt Denise.
She answered after three rings.
“Grace? Honey, are you okay?”
“Did you take Mom’s keys?”
“What keys?”
“The little ring from the kitchen drawer.”
“No.”
“Did Vanessa come here yesterday?”
Silence.
“Aunt Denise?”
“She stopped by after the burial.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“She said you asked her to pick up some paperwork.”
“I never asked her that.”
Benjamin’s face went hard.
“What paperwork?” I asked.
“She said insurance documents. She was here maybe ten minutes.”
“Was she alone?”
“I think so.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Vanessa had thrown me out after first making sure she had searched Mom’s house.
Benjamin said quietly, “Ask your aunt if Vanessa went into the bedroom.”
I did.
Denise hesitated.
“Yes.”
I hung up.
Maya was already calling the bank.
“We can flag the box and the trust account,” she said. “If the key is a duplicate and Vanessa tries to use it, the bank should not release anything without identification and authorization.”
“What if she already did?”
“We’ll find out.”
I walked into Mom’s bedroom.
Her cardigan was still hanging over the chair.
Her reading glasses were on the nightstand.
For one stupid second, I expected her to call from the bathroom and ask why everyone was being so loud.
Instead, I heard Benjamin behind me.
“Grace, you don’t have to search today.”
“Yes, I do.”
I opened the dresser.
Socks. Scarves. A packet of tissues.
Bottom drawer.
Photo albums.
Under them, a thin envelope taped to the wood.
My name was written on it.
GRACE — ONLY IF THEY LIE.
My hands went numb.
I tore it open.
Inside was a handwritten letter from Mom.
Grace,
If you are reading this, Vanessa has probably told you that your father left you nothing and that she has the right to decide whether you belong in his home.
That is not true.
Your father and I made many mistakes with each other, but he never stopped loving you.
I kept copies because he asked me to.
Trust Ben.
And one more thing: do not trust the estate inventory filed after his death. The box was not empty.
There should be a second page inside this envelope.
There wasn’t.
I turned it upside down.
Nothing.
Then I saw the torn edge.
Someone had opened the envelope before me.
Someone had taken the second page.
My phone rang.
Kyle.
I answered.
May you like
His voice was low.
“Grace, she’s at the bank.”
