„Czy to… Ty, Olivio?!” Moja teściowa zbladła. Pięć lat temu wyrzuciła mnie z domu, kiedy byłam w ciąży – a wczoraj kupiłam ich dom na aukcji długów. „Kochanie, uratowałaś nas!” – powiedział mój były – ten sam mężczyzna, który kiedyś widział, jak płaczę na schodach – po czym pobiegł mnie przytulić. Uśmiechnęłam się i powiedziałam…

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The mower’s out of gas,” Leo grumbled. “And the shed’s a mess. I can’t find the gas can.”

“Well, you’ll have to go buy some,” she snapped. “You heard her. She wants it done by the end of the week.”

A moment of silence.

Then Leo’s voice, laced with a familiar wheedling tone.

“With what money, Mom?”

My ears perked up.

I stood.

I folded my father’s letter and tucked it along with the other documents carefully back into the envelope.

I slid the envelope into my briefcase.

Then I walked silently to the study door and listened.

“There’s the emergency cash,” Brenda said in a hushed whisper. “In your father’s old desk.”

“The one in the attic?” Leo asked. “You told me you spent that all last month on the credit card payment.”

“I didn’t spend all of it,” she replied, voice dropping even lower. “So low I could barely hear it. There’s a false bottom in the main drawer. I always kept a few hundred there just in case. Go get it. And for God’s sake, don’t let her see you.”

A cold smile touched my lips.

A false bottom.

It seemed my father wasn’t the only one with secrets.

It was pathetic.

A few hundred dollars they’d squirreled away.

But it was their secret.

A tiny spark of defiance in the face of their new reality.

And I was about to extinguish it.

I waited until I heard Leo’s heavy footsteps start up the main stairs, heading for the attic access in the upstairs hallway.

Then I opened the study door and walked out.

I came face to face with Brenda as she was about to head back to the kitchen.

She jumped.

A guilty expression flashed across her face.

“Oh, Olivia, I was just—”

“Going to the attic?” I asked sweetly, arching an eyebrow.

Her face went pale.

“Funny,” I said. “I was just heading up there myself. There’s an old desk of my father’s I’d like to have brought down. I think I’ll put it right back here in his study where it belongs.”

Brenda’s face became pure panic.

The blood drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin a pasty, sickly gray.

“The attic? No, you don’t want to go up there. It’s… it’s filthy, a mess. I can have Leo clear it out for you tomorrow.”

Her voice was high and strained.

A pathetic attempt to deflect.

“Don’t be silly, Brenda,” I said.

My voice dripped with false concern.

“You have enough on your plate with the kitchen. Besides, I feel like taking a trip down memory lane. I haven’t seen that old desk in years.”

I brushed past her.

I headed for the staircase.

I knew she had no choice but to follow.

She trailed behind me, movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Upstairs, the hallway was dim.

I pulled the cord for the attic stairs.

They unfolded with a loud, groaning complaint.

A wave of hot, musty air washed over us.

Dust and forgotten time.

Just as I placed my foot on the first rung, Leo appeared at the top of the stairs.

A small metal cash box clutched in his hands.

He froze.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw me, then his mother standing defeated behind me.

The three of us were locked in a perfect silent tableau of guilt and discovery.

“Leo,” I said.

My voice calm.

Even.

“What’s that you have there?”

He clutched the box to his chest.

His knuckles went white.

“Nothing,” he stammered. “It’s… it’s just some of my old stuff.”

The lie was so flimsy, so transparent, it was almost insulting.

“Really,” I said, “because Brenda was just telling me about some emergency cash hidden in a desk up there. A desk that belonged to my father.”

I took another step up the ladder.

Leo took an involuntary step back.

“A desk that is sitting in my house,” I continued, “which would make any cash inside it mine.”

The fight drained out of him all at once.

His shoulders slumped.

The defiant rage in his eyes flickered out.

Replaced by hollow-eyed resignation.

Brenda let out a small whimper.

They were broken.

Completely.

Utterly.

I ascended the rest of the way into the attic.

It was just as she’d said.

A chaotic graveyard of discarded furniture and forgotten belongings.

Thick blankets of dust.

Cobwebs like lace.

And there in the corner was the desk.

Smaller than I remembered.

A simple, sturdy piece of oak.

Seeing it sent a fresh wave of grief through me.

I walked over.

I pulled open the main drawer.

I ran my fingers along the inside edge until I felt the small indentation Brenda had mentioned.

I lifted the false bottom.

The compartment was empty.

Save for a few stray paper clips.

I turned.

I held up the flimsy piece of wood.

“Looking for this?”

Leo slowly walked over.

He placed the cash box on the desk.

He didn’t say a word.

I opened it.

Inside was a pathetic collection of crumpled twenties and tens.

Maybe three hundred dollars.

Their last stand.

Their secret rebellion.

And it was nothing.

I picked up the bills and fanned them out.

Then I looked at Brenda.

She stood in the attic doorway, wringing her hands.

“This is what you had left?” I asked.

My voice was devoid of emotion.

“After everything my father gave you—the life insurance, the savings—this is all you have to show for it?”

Brenda finally broke.

Sobs racked her body.