Chapter 7: The Stranger Who Knew My Mother
My father read the second message three times before he said anything.
Then he locked my phone, placed it face down on the coffee table, and looked directly at me.
“Don't respond to that number.””
“Why? What if they know something about Mom?””
“They might. They might also be trying to frighten you into doing something careless.””
“But they knew about the deed.””
“And that's exactly why we're going to let the attorney handle this.””
I looked at the message again.
Your mother didn't just leave you a property, Nia. She left you a reason to be careful about the people who want it.
The words felt personal. Whoever had sent them knew about the brass box, the deed, and the property my mother had left me.
More importantly, they knew Vanessa wanted it.
“Dad, do you think Mom knew someone might try to take the property?””
He sat down beside me.
“I don't know, sweetheart. But your mother was careful about her estate. She didn't leave things to chance.””
“Then why didn't she tell us everything?””
He looked at the framed photograph above the fireplace.
“Sometimes people make arrangements they hope will never become necessary. That doesn't mean they expect something terrible to happen. It means they want the people they love to be protected if it does.””
I understood what he meant.
I still wished my mother were alive to explain it herself.
Kayla stood near the hallway, listening without interrupting. Her pink pantsuit was wrinkled now, and her eyes were swollen from crying.
“Could the person be Mom's old attorney?”” she asked.
My father shook his head.
“The attorney knows about the trust. He wouldn't need to contact Nia anonymously.””
“What if it was someone who worked with her?””
“That's possible.””
I picked up my phone.
“I want to find out.””
My father gently took it from my hand.
“And we will. But we're not going to chase an unknown number while someone may be trying to manipulate us.””
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
Within twenty minutes, the attorney called back.
His name was Daniel Brooks. He had handled my mother's estate for years, and I'd met him several times as a child. He had silver hair, a soft voice, and a habit of removing his glasses whenever he needed to explain something important.
My father put the call on speaker.
“Michael,” Daniel said, “I've reviewed the preliminary records. The property transfer inquiry is concerning, but there is no evidence that the ownership has changed.””
“What about the original deed?”” my father asked.
“The original deed should have been retained with the estate documents. I have a certified copy in our files, but Helen also kept certain original records in her personal box.””
“Do you know why?””
Daniel paused.
“Yes. She wanted Nia to have a complete record of the property and its history when she became an adult.””
I leaned toward the phone.
“Mr. Brooks, did my mother ever tell you that someone might try to claim the property?””
“I can't say that she predicted a specific dispute. However, she did instruct us to require independent verification before accepting any request to change the trust's ownership or authorized representatives.””
“Did she name anyone who shouldn't be allowed access?””
“No. The trust documents themselves determine who has authority. Your stepmother isn't listed as a beneficiary or authorized representative.””
My father rubbed his jaw.
“Then why would Vanessa have been asking about a transfer?””
“That's a question I cannot answer without reviewing the request and any communications associated with it.””
Daniel promised to send the relevant records that afternoon.
Before ending the call, I asked the question that had been pressing against my thoughts.
“Did my mother know a woman named Evelyn Reed?””
The line went quiet.
“Why do you ask?””
“Someone sent me a message. They mentioned the deed and said my mother left me a reason to be careful about the people who want the property.””
Daniel took a slow breath.
“Yes,” he said finally.
“Helen knew Evelyn Reed.””
“Who was she?””
“A longtime family friend. She was also involved in the original purchase of the property.””
My father sat straighter.
“Involved how?””
“Evelyn helped Helen locate the property and arrange its initial purchase. She witnessed several documents, although the legal ownership was always recorded separately.””
“Is she still alive?”” I asked.
“As far as I know.””
“Do you have her contact information?””
“I do, but I would prefer to speak with her first. If she has information relevant to the estate, I want to make sure it is handled appropriately.””
I didn't like the delay.
But I understood the need for caution.
“Please call her,” I said.
“I will.””
After the call ended, my father stood and walked to the window.
Kayla sat on the edge of an armchair.
“Do you think Mom knew Evelyn?”” she asked.
“Vanessa knew your mother for years,” my father replied.
“It's entirely possible.””
Kayla looked at me.
“I remember Mom mentioning that property once. She said it was supposed to be sold after your mother died.””
I turned toward her.
“Did she say who was going to sell it?””
“No. She just said your mother had made things unnecessarily complicated by putting everything into a trust.””
My father looked back at us.
“Your mother had every right to decide what happened to her assets.””
“I know,” Kayla whispered.
She stared at her hands.
“I keep thinking about the car. I could have said no. I could have called you. I could have asked Nia whether she knew anything about it.””
“Why didn't you?”” my father asked.
Kayla's eyes filled.
“Because I wanted it, and Mom made it sound like I deserved it.””
I looked at her.
“Did you ever wonder why she wanted me to lose it?””
Kayla didn't answer immediately.
Then she whispered, “I think she was trying to make you feel like you had less of a place in this family.””
The words hurt because they confirmed what I'd suspected.
Vanessa hadn't simply wanted Kayla to have a car.
She had wanted me to feel powerless.
My father pulled out his phone.
“Until we understand what's happening, nobody is to remove anything else from this house. If you find documents, photographs, or belongings connected to Helen, tell me immediately.””
Kayla nodded.
“I will.””
I didn't promise anything.
I wasn't ready to trust her again.
That afternoon, I went upstairs to my bedroom and opened the drawer where I'd kept my mother's belongings.
The velvet box containing her bracelet was still there, but it was empty.
I'd noticed the absence earlier. I hadn't wanted to look at it again.
Now I lifted the box and examined the lining.
A tiny folded piece of paper had been tucked beneath the velvet.
I carefully pulled it free.
It was a receipt from a jewelry store, dated four years earlier.
At the bottom, my mother had written a name and phone number.
*Evelyn Reed — keep original records.*
I stared at the handwriting.
Why would my mother hide Evelyn's number in a jewelry box?
I took the receipt downstairs.
My father was in the study, reviewing the documents Daniel had emailed.
“Dad, look at this.””
He examined the receipt.
“Where did you find it?””
“Under the lining of Mom's bracelet box.””
He read the note again.
“Keep original records.””
I nodded.
“Maybe Evelyn has something Mom wanted me to find.””
Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.
My father walked to the entrance.
A woman stood on the porch holding a leather folder against her chest.
She was in her late sixties, with silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun and a navy coat buttoned to her throat.
Her eyes moved from my father to me.
“Michael Carter?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Evelyn Reed.””
My heart began pounding.
She stepped inside but didn't remove her coat.
“I received a call from Daniel Brooks this morning. He told me someone had been asking questions about Helen's property.””
My father closed the door.
“Do you know anything about the missing deed?””
Evelyn looked at me.
“I know Helen was afraid that someone might one day try to take what she had set aside for you.””
I couldn't breathe for a moment.
“Why?””
She opened the leather folder.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing in front of the old brick property, one arm around Evelyn's shoulders.
My mother was smiling.
On the back, in her handwriting, were the words:
For Evelyn, who promised to help me protect Nia's future.
Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly as she turned the photograph over.
“Your mother didn't tell me everything,” she said.
“But she asked me to keep a copy of the original deed and one additional document.””
My father leaned forward.
“What document?””
Evelyn looked toward the hallway, then back at us.
“The document that explains why Helen put that property into Nia's trust in the first place.””
She reached into the folder.
And before she could remove the paper, her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went white.
“It's Vanessa,” she whispered.
Then she answered.
For several seconds, she listened without speaking.
Finally, she said, “No, Vanessa. I won't do that again.””
She ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.
My father stared at her.
“What did she ask you to do?””
Evelyn closed the folder.
“She wants me to tell you that Helen willingly signed the property over to her.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Did she?””
Evelyn met my eyes.
“No, sweetheart.””
May you like
She held the folder against her chest.
“But Vanessa has something she believes will make you think otherwise.””
