Chapter 4: The Blue Folder
For almost a full minute, neither Tasha nor I spoke.
My mother's last words kept replaying in my head.
If she sees what's inside, she'll never forgive me.
I had spent seventeen years believing my mother was the reasonable one in our family. Marcus was strict, sometimes cruel, but Nia was the person who explained his behavior away. She was the person who told me to be patient with Tasha, even while allowing her to be treated like a guest who had overstayed her welcome.
Now I wondered whether my mother had been protecting Tasha all those years—or protecting herself.
Tasha stood abruptly.
“We're going home.””
I caught her wrist.
“Did you hear what she said?””
“Yes.””
“She practically admitted she knows what's in that folder.””
“Exactly.””
“Then we need to think before we do anything.””
Tasha turned toward me, her eyes red but fierce.
“I've spent six years thinking before I did anything. I thought before asking for school supplies. I thought before buying new shoes. I thought before asking my own father whether he could help me pay for college.””
Her voice cracked.
“And now I have to think before finding out what my own mother left me?””
I released her wrist.
She was right.
We returned to the house together.
The black Highlander still sat in the driveway beneath its enormous red bow. Someone had turned off the birthday music, but the balloons remained tied to the mailbox. The sight of them made my stomach turn.
My mother stood inside the open front door, waiting.
Marcus was behind her.
Neither looked surprised to see us.
“Come inside,” Nia said.
Tasha stepped past her without answering.
The living room looked exactly as it had that morning. Cream-colored sofas, glass coffee table, framed family photographs, and the enormous television Marcus had insisted we needed.
A photograph above the fireplace showed the four of us at Christmas three years earlier.
Marcus had his arm around my mother. I stood beside them in a red dress, smiling at the camera.
Tasha stood at the far end of the photograph, half a step behind everyone else.
I had never noticed how carefully she had positioned herself at the edge.
Now I couldn't stop looking at it.
“Where's the folder?”” Tasha asked.
My mother shut the front door.
“Sit down first.””
“No.””
“Tasha, please.””
“I've been asking for answers all morning. I'm not sitting through another speech about gratitude.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“You will not speak to your mother that way.””
Tasha looked directly at him.
“Which mother?””
The question struck harder than a scream.
Marcus's face darkened.
“That's enough.””
“No, it isn't!”” I shouted.
“You took her money, and now Mom admits she knows something about a folder our dead mother left behind. Nobody gets to tell us this is enough.””
My mother pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“I was trying to protect both of you.””
“From what?”” Tasha demanded.
Nia looked at Marcus.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
I saw it.
So did Tasha.
“Stop looking at him for permission,” she said to our mother.
“You're an adult. If you know something, say it.””
For a moment, Nia looked as though she might finally speak.
Then Marcus moved toward the hallway.
“I'm getting the folder.””
He disappeared into his home office.
Tasha followed him immediately.
I hurried behind her.
Marcus reached the office first and closed the door before Tasha could enter. She grabbed the handle and pulled.
Locked.
“Open it!”” she shouted.
“Give me a minute.””
“You've had six years!””
She struck the door with her palm.
I stepped beside her.
“Dad, open the door.””
His voice came through the wood.
“I'm trying to find the paperwork.””
“Then why did you lock yourself in?””
No answer.
My mother appeared at the end of the hallway.
“Girls, stop this.””
Tasha spun around.
“You told me my mother left me a trust. Dad says he was going to replace the money. Now you say there's a folder I must never open. What exactly have you two been hiding?””
Nia's eyes filled with tears.
“I made a promise.””
“To whom?””
She hesitated.
“To your mother.””
Tasha went completely still.
“What promise?””
My mother glanced toward the office door.
“Not here.””
“Why not here?””
“Because your father—”
The office door suddenly opened.
Marcus stood there holding a thick blue folder.
His expression was composed again.
Too composed.
“Here,” he said, extending it toward Tasha.
“You want answers? Read it.””
Tasha stared at the folder.
“You said you didn't know where it was.””
“I found it.””
“Just now?””
“Do you want it or not?””
She reached for it.
He pulled it back.
“Before you open this, understand that your mother made mistakes. She wasn't the perfect woman you've built her into.””
Tasha's mouth fell open.
“You don't get to talk about her like that.””
“I'm telling you the truth.””
“No. You're trying to make me hate her before I even read the papers.””
His jaw tightened.
“Fine.””
He shoved the folder into her hands.
Tasha opened it.
The first pages were copies of legal documents. The second section contained bank statements. Near the back were letters, some typed and others handwritten.
She read silently for several seconds.
Then her fingers began to tremble.
“What is this?””
My mother covered her mouth.
I leaned over Tasha's shoulder.
The first document was a trust agreement dated four months before her mother's death. It established a fund for Tasha's education, housing, and future financial security.
That part was familiar.
The next document was not.
It described a second account funded by life insurance proceeds and an investment portfolio. The account was separate from the education trust and was intended to provide Tasha with money for a home and other major expenses when she reached adulthood.
The listed balance from the most recent statement was more than two hundred thousand dollars.
Tasha stopped breathing for a moment.
“Where is it?””
Marcus crossed his arms.
“That account was used for expenses after your mother died.””
“What expenses?””
“Your upbringing. The house. Food.
Medical bills. Everything required to raise you.””
Tasha looked at the statement.
Then at him.
“You told me Mom left almost nothing.””
“I said the money was needed to support the family.””
“You said there was no money for my college deposit!””
“Because there wasn't enough available at the time.””
She looked at the balance again.
“This says there was over two hundred thousand dollars.””
“That was years ago.””
“Then where did it go?””
Marcus's silence answered nothing, yet somehow made everything worse.
Tasha turned to my mother.
“Did you know about this account?””
Nia began crying.
“Yes.””
Tasha recoiled as though she had been slapped.
“You knew about two hundred thousand dollars, and you watched me work nights to pay for school?””
“I didn't control the account.””
“But you knew!””
“I was told the money was being managed properly.””
“By whom?””
My mother looked at Marcus.
Tasha closed the folder.
“You both keep doing that. You look at each other instead of answering me.””
She hugged the folder against her chest.
“I need copies of everything.””
Marcus shook his head.
“These are family records.””
“They concern my inheritance.””
“They concern the entire household.””
“No,” Tasha said, her voice suddenly steady.
“They concern my future.””
She walked toward the living room.
Marcus followed her.
“You're not taking that folder anywhere.””
Tasha stopped.
“Try to take it from me.””
The silence that followed was so complete that I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
Marcus stared at his daughter.
For the first time, I saw him understand that she wasn't the frightened nineteen-year-old who would quietly accept fifty dollars and say thank you.
She had found something he could no longer explain away.
And she wasn't going to let it go.
Then my mother spoke from the hallway.
“Marcus, tell her about the final letter.””
He turned toward her so quickly that the folder nearly slipped from Tasha's hands.
“What letter?””
Nia wiped her cheeks.
“The one Elizabeth left for Tasha.””
Tasha's eyes widened.
“You said there were only bank statements and legal documents.””
Marcus's face had gone pale.
My mother looked at Tasha.
“There was a letter addressed to you. Your mother asked me to give it to you when you turned nineteen.””
Tasha clutched the folder.
“Where is it?””
Nia looked toward the office.
“Your father took it before I could.””
Tasha turned slowly toward Marcus.
“Give me my mother's letter.””
He didn't move.
May you like
And that was when I realized the blue folder hadn't exposed the truth.
It had only shown us how much of it was still missing.
