Chapter 3 - The Envelope Beneath the Towels
"Give me tonight," Daniel said. "To fix this."
Vanessa laughed softly. "There is nothing to fix."
"There is plenty."
"I made one mistake."
"No," I said. Both of them looked at me. "You made one mistake while he was watching."
The room went quiet.
"If you tell him the truth right now," I said, "all of it, I will listen. The house. The documents. The facility. Whatever you've been doing with my mail."
"I never touched her mail."
"You opened the letter from the county tax office."
"It was sitting on the counter."
"It arrived sealed."
Not a denial of the event. A denial of my mind.
I saw Daniel's face rearranging months of small absurdities — forgotten cash, missing keys, a sweater she'd claimed I'd left in the freezer.
"What documents were you asking her to sign?" he asked.
"Preliminary paperwork," she said.
"For what?"
Silence.
"The developer approached me," she finally said. "The company buying property behind your mother's acreage."
"How much?" I asked.
"Two point eight," Vanessa said.
Daniel closed his eyes.
I went upstairs to pack. My suitcase still sat in the guest-room closet, exactly where he'd placed it six months earlier.
At the bottom drawer, beneath a stack of towels, I found a cream envelope I'd never seen. My full legal name, typed. A law firm in Asheville.
I sat on the bed a long time before opening it.
Then Vanessa's voice from the hallway.
"You should ask her why her signature is already on the deed."
My hand stopped.
Daniel appeared behind her.
Vanessa smiled without pretending to be kind.
May you like
"The sale isn't waiting for Margaret to agree," she said. "It's waiting for the county to record it."
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