Chapter 4 - The Empty Search
Brenda and Thomas wasted no time tearing through Fiona’s small bedroom upstairs.
From the kitchen below, I could hear the aggressive sliding of closet doors, the heavy thud of dresser drawers being yanked completely out and dumped onto the floor, and the frustrated muttering of my sister-in-law as she tossed aside old woolen sweaters, worn-out aprons, and faded family photo albums.
Mark sat at the kitchen table across from me, burying his face in his calloused hands.
“I’m sorry about them, Mabel,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “I know how hard it was. I know they didn't lift a finger to help us. I tried to tell them years ago to hire a nurse, but they refused to spend a dime of their own money.”
“I know, Mark,” I said gently, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “I didn't do it for them. I did it for her.”
Upstairs, a sudden, furious crash echoed through the ceiling beams, followed by Brenda’s shrill voice screeching down the stairwell:
“Thomas! Get up here! Look at this nonsense!”
Mark and I exchanged a quick glance before walking out to the hallway and heading up the wooden stairs. When we reached Fiona’s room, it looked like a tornado had touched down. Clothes were scattered everywhere, mattresses were half-pulled off their frames, and Brenda was standing in the center of the chaos holding an old, empty tin box that had once held peppermint drops.
“There’s nothing!” Brenda shrieked, her face twisted with fury as she glared at me. “Not a single bond, not a single stock certificate, not even a decent piece of jewelry! Where is it, Mabel? What did you do with Mom’s savings?”
I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms just as she had done downstairs. “I told you, Brenda. There was nothing to find.”
“You’re a liar!” Thomas roared, stepping forward menacingly. “Mom lived on this farm for sixty years! She sold corn, she sold livestock, she saved every penny! She must have had tens of thousands of dollars hidden away somewhere, and you’ve been cleaning it out behind our backs while she was too sick to notice!”
“Watch your tone in my house, Thomas,” Mark warned, stepping in front of me, his broad shoulders tensing as his temper finally flared. “My wife wiped your mother’s backside when she couldn't walk! She fed her, she bathed her, she listened to her cry every single night while you were sitting in your comfortable Chicago offices ignoring our phone calls! If there was money, she earned every single cent of it ten times over!”
“You’re just as blind as she is, Mark!” Brenda yelled, her voice cracking with hysterical greed. “We’re going to get a lawyer! We’re going to audit every bank account, every receipt, every inch of this property! You won't get away with stealing our inheritance!”
“Take your lawyer and get out of my house,” I said calmly, stepping forward into the room.
My utter lack of fear seemed to disorient them more than anger would have. Brenda stared at me, her mouth working silently like a fish out of water, while Thomas cursed under his breath, kicked a stray shoe across the floor, and stormed out of the room, slamming the front door downstairs so hard the windows rattled in their frames.
Brenda glared at me one last time with pure venom before grabbing her coat and marching out after her brother, their luxury car roaring to life in the driveway and spitting gravel as they sped away down the snowy country road.
The house fell back into a heavy, profound silence.
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Mark let out a long, shaky breath, slumping against the bedroom wall. “They’re going to make good on that threat, Mabel. They might not find anything here, but they’re vindictive enough to drag us through probate court just to make our lives miserable.”
“Let them try,” I said softly, walking over to the bed and picking up the old, torn pillow that still lay where Brenda had tossed it in disgust. I held it gently against my chest, feeling the hard, secure weight of the oilcloth packet hidden safely upstairs. “Let them look as hard as they want. Some things aren't meant for people who only show up at the end of the story.”
