Chapter 2: The Envelope
I had never searched another woman's bedroom before.
But I had also never seen my grandson look at a broken backpack as if it were something he should be grateful for.
Tasha stood in the doorway.
“You cannot do this.””
I opened the first drawer.
Clothes.
Socks.
Receipts.
Nothing.
“Evelyn.””
I moved to the second.
“You're crossing a line.””
I pulled open the third.
Nothing.
Then the fourth.
Tasha stepped forward.
“Stop.””
I turned.
“Why?””
“Because there’s nothing there.””
“You seem very sure.””
“I live here.””
“So do you know where the envelope is?””
Her face tightened.
“I told Malcolm. I don't have it.””
I stared at her.
“Then you shouldn't mind me looking.””
She moved toward me.
I raised my hand.
“Don't.””
She stopped.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said quietly, “You always thought Rachel was better than me.””
The accusation caught me off guard.
“What?””
“You never accepted me.””
“That has nothing to do with school supplies.””
“It has everything to do with this.””
“No. This is about Isaiah.””
“He is my child.””
“Then act like it.””
Her eyes flashed.
“You don't know what it's like raising three children alone.””
“Malcolm sends money.””
“He sends money when he remembers.””
“That is a lie.””
Her expression flickered.
I saw it.
A tiny crack.
I stepped closer.
“Malcolm called me. He knows exactly what he sent.””
She looked away.
“Of course he called you.””
“Where is the envelope?””
“I don't know.””
I opened another drawer.
Towels.
A small makeup bag.
Old photographs.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the bottom of the dresser.
One corner was slightly raised.
I crouched.
Tasha moved quickly.
“Don't touch that.””
I looked up.
“Why?””
She didn't answer.
I pulled the drawer completely out.
A folded blanket had been shoved behind it.
I reached underneath.
My fingers touched paper.
My heart began pounding.
I pulled out a white envelope.
Dust covered one side.
On the front, written in faded blue ink, were two words.
ISAIAH MICHAEL.
I knew the handwriting immediately.
Rachel.
Tasha went pale.
I held the envelope up.
“Is this the one?””
She said nothing.
“Is this Rachel's envelope?””
“I don't know.””
“You just told me you never had it.””
“I said I didn't know where it was.””
“No. You said you never received it.””
She backed away.
I turned the envelope over.
It was still sealed.
The edges were yellowed with age.
There was no return address.
No explanation.
Just Isaiah's name.
I suddenly felt guilty for opening it.
This wasn't mine.
It belonged to a little boy whose mother had died before he could remember her properly.
I looked at Tasha.
“Why did you hide this?””
She swallowed.
“I didn't.””
“It was behind your dresser.””
“I forgot about it.””
“You forgot about an envelope addressed to your stepson from his dead mother?””
Her eyes hardened.
“He doesn't need it.””
My voice dropped.
“That isn't your decision.””
She folded her arms.
“He was three when Rachel died. He won't remember her anyway.””
I looked at the name on the envelope.
“You're wrong.””
Tasha scoffed.
“You think a piece of paper will make him remember?””
“No.””
I looked at her.
“I think you’re afraid of what’s on it.””
She said nothing.
I put the envelope inside my purse.
“I’m taking this.””
“You can't.””
“I can.””
“It belongs to my house.””
“It belongs to Isaiah.””
She stepped in front of the door.
“You're not leaving with it.””
I stared at her.
Then my phone rang.
Malcolm again.
I answered.
“Mom?””
“I found it.””
Silence.
“You found what?””
“Rachel's envelope.””
He exhaled sharply.
“Thank God.””
“Why didn't you tell me what you thought was inside?””
“Because I don't know.””
“Then why are you so scared?””
He didn't answer.
“Malcolm.””
Finally, he said, “There was a note.””
“What kind?””
“Rachel told me she had discovered something about Tasha.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
“I never got to read the whole thing.””
“Why?””
“Because Rachel gave it to me two days before she died. She said if anything happened to her, Isaiah had to have it when he turned ten.””
I looked at the envelope.
“Isaiah is nine.””
“I know.””
“And you're telling me now?””
“I found another bank statement.””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What did it show?””
“Mom…”
“What?””
“She wasn't just taking the five hundred.””
“What do you mean?””
“I checked the account.””
“And?””
“There are withdrawals going back years.””
“How many?””
“I don't know yet.””
“What kind of withdrawals?””
“School money. Child benefits. Insurance payments.””
I closed my eyes.
“How much?””
His voice cracked.
“Mom, I think Tasha has been taking money meant for Isaiah since he was four.””
The hallway seemed to tilt.
I looked at Tasha.
She was watching me.
Her face was no longer angry.
It was calculating.
I said quietly, “How much?””
Malcolm answered.
“Nearly thirty thousand dollars.””
Tasha suddenly lunged toward my purse.
I stepped back.
“Don't touch me.””
“Give me that envelope!””
Her voice shattered through the hallway.
Isaiah appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Mom?””
Tasha froze.
The boy looked between us.
“What's wrong?””
Tasha forced a smile.
“Nothing, sweetheart.””
I watched Isaiah's face.
He didn't believe her.
Neither did I.
I slipped the envelope deeper into my purse.
Then I noticed something else.
A small metal key taped beneath the dresser drawer.
And attached to the key was a handwritten label.
*LOCKER 17.*
I stared at it.
May you like
Tasha saw where I was looking.
Her face went completely white.
