“Let me handle it. I’ll drive over and get it.”
Something about his eagerness bothered me.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“She asked me.”
Robert extended his hand toward me.
“We can slip it into the casket at the graveside.”
“I’ll get it.”
Aunt Susan touched his arm.
Aunt Linda stared at the floor.
Nobody argued with me.
“I’ll be fifteen minutes.”
Then I left.
Grandma’s house still smelled like cinnamon, furniture polish, and the cardigan she always wore on Sundays.
I went directly to her bedroom.
Dragging a kitchen chair into the closet, I climbed onto it and reached for the faded brown handbag.
The moment I lifted it, I froze.
It was much heavier than I expected.
Not jewelry heavy.
Paper heavy.
I sat on Grandma’s bed and opened the brass clasp.
Inside were envelopes.
Twelve of them.
Eleven had names written across the front in Grandma’s careful handwriting.
Emily.
Megan.
Jake.
Ashley.
Tyler.
And the names of every other grandchild.
The final envelope had no name.
Only three words.
