Chapter 7: The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Nobody moved.
The voice from downstairs came again.
“Richard, I know you're in there. Open the door.””
My father gripped the edge of the wooden trunk.
Elizabeth looked toward the staircase, then back at him.
“Richard, who is that woman?””
He shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You recognized her.””
“I said I don't know!””
His voice cracked.
I looked at the photograph of my mother lying beside the music box.
“Is she my grandmother?””
Elizabeth took a slow breath.
“Your mother's family history is complicated.””
“That isn't an answer.””
Before she could respond, three loud knocks shook the front door.
“Richard! Don't make me wait!””
My father closed his eyes.
Then he whispered a name.
“Margaret.””
Elizabeth went completely still.
I repeated it.
“Margaret?””
“Margaret Collins,” my father said.
“Your mother's mother.””
I looked at Elizabeth.
“You said she was dead.””
“I said she was believed to be dead.””
“What does that mean?””
Elizabeth lowered her voice.
“Margaret disappeared from the family fifteen years ago. There was a report of a boating accident. No body was recovered, but the authorities eventually closed the case.””
“Why would my grandmother disappear?””
Richard gave a humorless laugh.
“Because she was the reason Laura and Harold stopped trusting people.””
Another knock came from downstairs.
“Richard! I can hear you!””
Mr. Bennett, who had been checking the front entrance, appeared at the top of the staircase.
“She refuses to leave,” he said.
“And she's asking specifically for Maya.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Why does she want me?””
Elizabeth looked at the letter.
“Perhaps because your mother left something unfinished.””
We went downstairs together.
The woman stood in the entrance hall.
She was wearing a long charcoal coat, black gloves, and a pale scarf. Her silver hair was pulled into a neat bun. A small leather purse hung from her shoulder.
She looked fragile.
But her eyes were sharp.
When she saw me, she stopped.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she whispered, “Laura's eyes.””
I stepped closer to Elizabeth.
The woman noticed.
“Don't be afraid, sweetheart.””
I didn't answer.
Elizabeth moved forward.
“Margaret Collins?””
The woman nodded.
“You're still as suspicious as ever, Elizabeth.””
“And you're still very good at appearing when nobody expects you.””
Margaret smiled faintly.
“I suppose that's a family trait.””
My father approached.
“What are you doing here?””
Margaret looked at him.
“I came to see my granddaughter.””
“You've had fifteen years.””
“And I've spent fifteen years regretting that.””
Richard laughed bitterly.
“You don't get to walk back into our lives and pretend nothing happened.””
Margaret's expression hardened.
“Neither do you, Richard.””
I looked between them.
“Can someone please tell me what's happening?””
Margaret turned toward me.
“I'm your maternal grandmother.””
I swallowed.
“Why did everyone think you were dead?””
She removed one glove.
“Because someone wanted everyone to believe that.””
Elizabeth's face tightened.
“Who?””
Margaret looked at my father.
Then she said, “Your grandfather knew.””
My father stepped forward.
“Don't.””
Margaret ignored him.
“Harold helped me disappear.””
I stared.
“Grandpa?””
She nodded.
“After your grandfather discovered what was happening with Laura's inheritance, he realized the problem was much bigger than stolen money.””
“What problem?””
Margaret glanced toward the study.
“Your mother had discovered a network of fraudulent property transactions. Money was being moved through accounts belonging to elderly homeowners. Some properties were being transferred without their owners understanding what they had signed.””
Elizabeth looked shocked.
“Laura was investigating those transactions?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't Harold tell me?””
“Because he believed someone inside your office was involved.””
Elizabeth slowly closed her briefcase.
“Who?””
Margaret looked toward Diane's empty chair.
“I think you already know.””
A cold silence settled over the room.
I looked at my father.
“Was Diane involved?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Margaret, please.””
Margaret turned toward him.
“Your wife has spent years pretending she rescued you. But she was the person who brought you into the scheme.””
Richard's face went pale.
I stared at him.
“What scheme?””
He didn't answer.
Margaret continued.
“Diane was working with a property developer who wanted access to Harold's land and several other family properties. Laura discovered the transactions and threatened to expose them.””
Elizabeth shook her head.
“That's why Laura requested the original records.””
Margaret nodded.
“And that's why she was frightened.””
I looked at her.
“Did Diane hurt my mother?””
Margaret's expression softened.
“I don't know everything that happened that night. But I know Laura was afraid of her.””
My throat tightened.
“Did you see Mom before she died?””
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
“When?””
“The afternoon of the accident.””
I stared at her.
“What did she say?””
Margaret reached into her purse and removed a small photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a young woman in front of a building.
The woman was Margaret.
On the back, Laura had written:
I finally understand who has been taking everything from us.
Margaret handed it to me.
“She told me she had found the original financial records. She wanted me to take them somewhere safe.””
“Did you?””
Margaret nodded.
“Your grandfather arranged it.””
“Where are they?””
“Somewhere nobody has been able to find.””
Elizabeth stepped forward.
“Margaret, why did you wait until now?””
“Because Harold asked me to.””
She reached into her purse again.
This time she removed a folded note.
It was addressed to Elizabeth.
The handwriting belonged to Grandpa.
Elizabeth opened it.
Her eyes moved across the page.
Then she looked at me.
“What does it say?”” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Harold instructed Margaret to return only after the contents of Safe Deposit Box 806 were ready to be examined.””
I held up the silver key.
“Then we should go to the bank.””
Margaret nodded.
“Not yet.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because the key opens more than a box.””
She looked at the tiny number engraved on its handle.
“It's also the key to a question your mother spent years trying to answer.””
My father suddenly grabbed the photograph.
“Give that to me.””
I pulled it away.
“Why?””
He stared at Margaret.
“Because if you're really here, then you know what happened to the original birth records.””
Margaret's expression changed.
And Elizabeth whispered something I couldn't quite hear.
May you like
Then Margaret looked at me.
“Sweetheart, there's something about the day you were born that nobody has told you.””
