Chapter 9 - THE RED FOLDER ARRIVES
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Brandon finally put down his fork. It clattered loudly against his porcelain plate.
“Elaine, can we please not do this tonight?” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “We have guests.”
I turned my head and looked at my brother. Really looked at him. He was wearing an expensive tailored suit, a gold watch I had never seen before, and fresh leather shoes.
“You watched your wife humiliate Mom this afternoon over a broken salad plate, Brandon,” I said coldly.
His face turned completely ghost-white.
“Elaine… it was just—”
“You walked away,” I interrupted. “She was crying on her knees in the kitchen, and you turned around and walked out the back door.”
Mom reached out under the table, her trembling hand finding mine. She gave it a small, terrified squeeze, whispering, “Elaine… please…”
I squeezed her hand back, giving her strength, but I didn't back down.
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, letting out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. She tossed her hands up in the air and looked around at her friends for sympathy.
“Oh, please!” Vanessa scoffed loudly. “A plate broke! Everyone was stressed! You’re turning one bad, chaotic afternoon into some ridiculous, dramatic family soap opera!”
“One bad afternoon?” I asked quietly.
I reached into my canvas handbag, pulled out the red folder, and placed it right in the center of the mahogany table, right next to the eucalyptus garland.
Vanessa’s eyes flicked down to the faded paper.
For a split second, her composure shattered. A flash of pure, unadulterated panic swept across her features before she quickly masked it.
“What is that?” Brandon asked, frowning as he reached toward it.
“Something Mom kept,” I said.
Vanessa’s hand shot across the table like a striking viper to grab the folder, but I slammed my palm down on top of it before her fingers could touch the paper.
“Not yet, Vanessa,” I said softly.
Linda, Vanessa’s mother, puffed out her chest, adjusting her cashmere shawl with indignation.
“I don’t understand why you are attacking my daughter in her own home!” Linda snapped loudly, glaring at me. “She has been nothing but gracious to your mother!”
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I turned my head slowly to look at Linda. Then I looked at Rachel. Then at the two law partners from Brandon's firm.
“Her own home?” I repeated softly. “Is that what she told you?”
