Chapter 7: The Woman Who Knew My Mother
The name on the second will was Margaret Ellis.
I had never heard of her.
My father had.
I knew it from the way his face changed when I showed him the document.
He took one step backward.
“Where did you get this?””
“Someone emailed it to me.””
“Delete it.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“Delete the email, Nia. You don't know where it came from.””
“Then tell me who Margaret Ellis is.””
He looked toward the office door.
“Not here.””
“You've been saying that my entire life. Not here. Not now.
Not in front of Vanessa. Not while Maya is upset. When is the right time, Dad?””
His jaw tightened.
“Margaret was your mother's business partner.””
“Why have I never heard of her?””
“Because she left Atlanta before your mother died.””
“Why?””
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“We had a disagreement.””
“What kind of disagreement?””
He looked at the second will again.
“She believed your mother should leave the entire collection to you. Vanessa thought the business needed to be managed by someone with experience.””
“And you agreed with Vanessa.””
“I was trying to keep the estate solvent.””
“You keep saying that as though it excuses everything.””
He lowered his voice.
“Please. Let me handle this.””
“No.””
I slipped the papers into my bag.
“For once, I'm handling my own life.””
I walked away before he could answer.
Eleanor was waiting outside the office. When she saw my face, she didn't ask whether I was all right. She simply handed me a bottle of water and waited until I had taken a drink.
“I found an address associated with Margaret Ellis,” she said.
“It's an old studio in Decatur. The business closed several years ago, but the property records list a forwarding address.””
I stared at her.
“How did you find that so quickly?””
“I know people in the industry. And your mother was more respected than you realize.””
She wrote an address on the back of a business card.
“Call first. Don't accuse anyone of anything until you know what happened.””
I nodded.
Then I made the call.
A woman answered after the sixth ring.
“Hello?””
“Is this Margaret Ellis?””
“Who is asking?””
“My name is Nia Carter. My mother was Evelyn Carter.””
Silence.
I could hear a television playing faintly in the background.
Then the woman said, “Oh, sweetheart.””
My knees nearly gave way.
No one had called me that in years.
“I'm sorry to call so late,” I said.
“I found a document with your name on it. It says you were appointed to manage my mother's creative estate.””
A long pause followed.
“Where did you find that?””
“Someone sent me a copy of a second will.””
The woman exhaled shakily.
“Then the truth is finally coming out.””
I gripped the phone.
“What truth?””
“Your mother knew what would happen after she died. She was afraid your father would let Vanessa take control of everything.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why?””
“Because Vanessa had already been asking questions about the licensing contracts. She wanted to know how much Evelyn's designs were worth.””
I thought of the gold necklace.
The pattern box.
The envelope Maya had taken from my studio.
“Did my mother know Vanessa was stealing from her?””
“Not at first. But she discovered that several original patterns had been copied and sent to a manufacturer without her permission.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who sent them?””
Margaret's voice became quiet.
“Your father.””
The words struck with the force of a physical blow.
I couldn't speak.
Margaret continued.
“Evelyn confronted him. He claimed he was trying to save the business. They argued for days. Eventually, he agreed to stop signing anything without her approval.””
“But she died before that happened.””
“Yes.””
“And then he licensed the collection anyway.””
“He told me the medical bills had consumed everything. He said he had no choice.””
I thought of the man who had stood in the conference room and told me he was protecting the family.
“What did my mother leave me?””
“Her designs. Her business records. And the rights to any royalties generated after her death.””
“Then why didn't I receive them?””
“Because the second will was never filed. Your father claimed it was a draft. I challenged him, but I didn't have the resources to pursue the case. Eventually, the legal notices stopped coming.””
I leaned against the wall.
“Why didn't you contact me?””
“I tried.””
My breath caught.
“What?””
“I sent letters to your father's house. I called several times. Every message was returned or unanswered. Eventually, I was told you didn't want to be involved in your mother's business.””
“That isn't true.””
“I know that now.””
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Vanessa had spent years telling me that my mother's designs were worthless, that I was wasting my time trying to follow her, that no one would ever pay for the kind of work Evelyn had done.
All the while, someone had been selling those same designs.
“Can you prove what you're telling me?”” I asked.
“Yes. I have copies of the original licensing agreements, correspondence with your mother, and the records of every payment I was able to trace.””
“Will you meet me?””
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock. My home address is the same one listed on the document.””
I thanked her and ended the call.
When I turned around, Eleanor was watching me.
“What did she say?””
I told her.
Eleanor listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she said, “You need an attorney who specializes in intellectual property and estates.””
“I don't have money for an attorney.””
“Let's not decide what you can afford before we know what your mother left you.””
She took out her phone and made another call.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the lobby of the competition venue, speaking to a lawyer named Daniel Price.
He listened carefully as I explained the forged withdrawal form, the stolen design, and the two wills.
When I finished, he asked one question.
“Do you have the original documents?””
“Only copies.””
“Then our first priority is authentication. Don't post accusations online, don't threaten your family, and don't sign anything they give you.””
I nodded.
“Can we stop them from selling my mother's designs?””
“If the evidence supports your claim, we can seek to protect the rights while the estate issue is resolved. But I need to examine the documents before I promise anything.””
He gave me his office address and told me to bring every record I could find.
Then he asked whether my mother had kept business files.
“Yes,” I said.
“In a box at my father's house.””
“Can you access it?””
I thought of the cabinet in the garage studio.
The missing patterns.
The envelope Maya had taken.
“I don't know.””
Daniel's expression became serious.
“Then don't go alone.””
That night, I stayed at Lena's apartment.
She made grilled cheese sandwiches, put a blanket over my shoulders, and sat beside me while I sorted through the photographs on my phone.
At midnight, I found a picture of my mother standing beside a rack of gowns. She wore a faded blue blouse and had a measuring tape around her neck.
I zoomed in on the garment at the center of the rack.
It was unlike anything I had ever seen in her old sketches.
A pale gold gown with a dramatic flowing train and delicate silver branches woven into the fabric.
Beneath the photograph, my mother had written a note.
The Phoenix Collection. Final prototype. Nia will understand one day.
I stared at the words.
The Phoenix Collection.
I had never heard that name before.
Then Lena leaned over my shoulder.
“Nia, look at the date.””
The photograph had been taken three days before my mother entered the hospital for the last time.
My throat tightened.
She had been working on something until the very end.
Something she had intended for me.
I opened the email containing the second will and examined the attachments again.
There was one additional file I hadn't noticed.
A scanned inventory of Evelyn Carter's estate.
At the bottom was a line describing the Phoenix Collection.
*Five original gowns. One master pattern archive. One sealed letter addressed to Nia Carter.*
The inventory also listed a storage location.
A commercial unit in Atlanta.
The account holder was Margaret Ellis.
And the access code had been included in the final page.
I looked at the clock.
Nine hours until my meeting with Margaret.
For the first time since Vanessa had thrown my gown into the trash, I felt something stronger than anger.
Hope.
But beneath it was a question I couldn't ignore.
May you like
If my mother had left me a sealed letter, why had Margaret waited nine years to deliver it?
And what had my mother known that made her so afraid of what would happen after she died?
