Chapter 13 - To Open a Door
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Natalie’s hand trembled violently as she finally picked up the envelope.
It was clearly old, yellowed slightly at the sharp edges, but the wax seal was completely intact. Her name had been written with the exact same firm, distinctive slant she fondly remembered from birthday cards and short notes tucked lovingly into her school lunch bags.
She looked up at Chloe, her eyes wide. “Where exactly did you find this?”
“It was hidden in a locked metal firebox buried under Mom’s heavy winter scarves in the back of her closet.”
“How long has she secretly had it?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Natalie ran her thumb reverently over her written name.
For Natalie when she is truly ready.
Ready for what? What could possibly be inside?
Chloe whispered urgently, “Open it, Nat.”
Natalie desperately wanted to.
Every single part of her wanted to tear it aggressively open right there, surrounded by the comforting smell of coffee and cinnamon and strangers who knew absolutely nothing about her toxic, broken family.
But something primal stopped her.
Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was deep instinct. Maybe it was the sudden, overwhelming understanding that once this specific door was opened, some things could never, ever be closed again.
She placed the sealed envelope incredibly carefully into her own purse.
“Not here,” Natalie decided.
Chloe nodded in understanding.
Natalie stood up, grabbing her coat, then paused. “Come with me.”
Chloe looked deeply startled. “Where?”
“We are going to Leah’s office. Right now.”
“Natalie, I don’t know if I can do that. If Mom finds out—”
“You can,” Natalie interrupted fiercely, grabbing her sister's hand.
Chloe’s eyes searched hers, looking for reassurance. “Why are you suddenly helping me?”
Natalie thought of fierce storms, imaginary moonlight boats, and a terrified little girl whispering again.
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Natalie said honestly. “But I am completely tired of letting Mom dictate who we are allowed to be to each other.”
Leah Whitaker’s law office occupied the quiet second floor of a narrow, historic building downtown, situated above a busy florist and beside an eccentric tailor who kept three headless mannequins permanently in the window. The narrow stairwell smelled faintly of old dust and fresh lilies.
Leah was in her early forties, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a remarkably calm manner that made Natalie feel simultaneously exposed and fiercely protected.
Leah listened without a single interruption as Natalie and Chloe anxiously explained the hidden envelope, the aggressive loan notices, and Uncle Raymond’s unexpected involvement.
When Natalie finally placed the sealed envelope on Leah’s expansive desk, the attorney did not reach out to touch it immediately.
“This was explicitly addressed to you,” Leah observed, analyzing the handwriting.
Natalie nodded.
“And you are absolutely certain you found it in your mother’s locked possession?” Leah asked, turning to Chloe.
Chloe swallowed hard. “I am.”
May you like
Leah looked at Chloe, not unkindly, but with professional severity. “You must understand that fact may become incredibly important later in a court of law.”
“I understand,” Chloe affirmed.
