Just Elena.
My fingers started shaking.
A thin cloud of leftover flour dust slipped from the edge of the tin and landed across the black pants I was still wearing from the funeral.
That was when Julian walked into the kitchen.
The instant he saw the money, his entire expression changed.
“What’s all that?”
“I found it inside the flour tin.”
He stared at the cash for several seconds.
Then he shrugged.
“Probably grocery money she forgot about.”
We counted it.
$18,940.
I looked at him.
“Forgot?”
Before Julian could reach toward the counter, I picked up the envelope and opened it.
The first words were enough to make my stomach tighten.
I’m sorry, Elena.
Then I read the next sentence.
I should have told you what Arthur did with your settlement.
I dropped into Mama’s kitchen chair.
Suddenly, I was seventeen years old again.
That year, I had been struck by a delivery truck outside the Piggly Wiggly.
My injuries kept me in a cast for nine weeks.
For months afterward, I walked with a limp.
There had been an insurance settlement.
But Arthur handled everything.
He told Mama and me that most of the money had gone toward medical expenses.
Whatever remained, he said, had been used up by additional costs.
There was nothing left for me.
I was young.
I didn’t understand legal documents or insurance claims.
So I believed him.
I remembered Mama crying when Arthur explained that the money was gone.
All these years, I had assumed she cried because she felt helpless and worried about me.
Sitting in her kitchen with that letter in my hands, another possibility entered my mind.
Maybe those tears had been guilt.
I looked toward Julian.
He was watching me carefully.
Then he said something that immediately made me suspicious.
“Don’t start digging up old things.”
I stared at him.
That wasn’t something a person said unless there was something buried.
“You know something.”
Julian looked away.
Mama’s letter was three pages long.
I kept reading.
But before I reached the end, I noticed that the final page had been folded separately.
It had been sealed with tape so old that it had yellowed and turned brown around the edges.
Written across the outside were seven words:
Read this at First County Bank, not inside the house.
I read them twice.
Then I carefully put the cash back into the flour tin.
I placed Mama’s letter inside my purse.
And I left.
