Chapter 4 - The Attic

I called the unknown number. A woman answered on the second ring.

“My name’s Rosa,” she said. “I clean for your father on Thursdays. I knew your mom.”

I remembered Rosa kneeling beside me years ago, helping me untangle Christmas lights.

“Who’s opening the attic?” I asked.

“Gwendolyn hired a company. They’re supposed to photograph everything before the truck comes.” Rosa lowered her voice. “I heard her tell your father they need to find the old files first.”

“What files?”

“I don’t know. But she was angry when she couldn’t find the little wooden box.”

I thanked her and called Nina. She told me to keep our communication in writing, ask for access to my mother’s belongings, and bring someone with me. The property attorney was preparing a letter about my interest in the house.

That evening I texted Dad: I’m coming Friday at ten to collect Mom’s belongings. Please don’t dispose of anything before then.

He replied: Fine. Make it quick.

Nina came with me. Dad opened the door, looking as though he hadn’t slept. Gwendolyn stood behind him with her arms crossed.

“You brought a lawyer,” she said.

“I brought help carrying boxes.”

Chloe appeared at the top of the stairs. “Are you here for the curtains?”

“I’m here for Mom’s things.”

We climbed into the attic. Old holiday decorations lined one wall. On the other side were three cardboard boxes with my mother’s handwriting on them. I opened the first and found recipes, photographs, and a pair of red mittens I’d worn when I was six.

Gwendolyn stopped me at the second box.

“That’s household paperwork.”

Nina stepped closer. “The box is marked Paige’s school records.”

I lifted the lid. Report cards lay on top. Under them was a manila folder containing copies of letters between my mother and Dad.

The last letter was dated two weeks before she died.

I read the first line and had to grip the edge of the box.

Sam, I need you to promise that Paige will always have a home here, even if your life changes after I’m gone.

At the bottom, my father had written: I promise.

Gwendolyn reached for the folder.

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Dad caught her wrist.

And for the first time since dinner, he said, “Leave it.”