The Letters That Never Arrived
Chapter 03 - The Letters That Never Arrived
Daniel took the chair across from her.
“What I know is that Celeste threw away Nora’s gift.”
Ruth wrote it down.
“The paper came from Emily’s locked cabinet.”
She wrote that too.
“The cabinet was opened. The contents are gone.”
“Photograph the lock?”
“Yes.”
“Receipt from the locksmith?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Nora sat at the breakfast nook coloring a horse. She had asked to stay near them but did not want to participate.
Every few minutes, she glanced toward the driveway.
Ruth noticed.
“Is Celeste expected home?”
“I told her to stay at a hotel tonight,” Daniel said.
“Did she agree?”
“She didn’t answer.”
Ruth wrote that down.
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face. “You’re treating this like a case file.”
“No. I’m treating it like memory. Memory gets slippery when people are scared.”
She turned to Nora.
“Honey, I’m going to ask one question. You can say you don’t know.”
Nora put down the yellow crayon.
“Okay.”
“How did my letter get into your box?”
Nora thought for a moment.
“It was in the paper trash under Celeste’s desk.”
“Was the envelope open?”
“No.”
“Did you know it was from me?”
“I know your R.”
Ruth’s mouth tightened.
She had always written capital R with a loop too large for the rest of the word. Emily used to tease her about it.
“Thank you,” Ruth said. “That’s all.”
Nora returned to the horse.
Daniel stood. “I’m calling Celeste.”
Ruth capped the pen.
“Do not accuse her of the letters yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because if there are eleven more, you want to know where they are before she decides you never will.”
Daniel hated the practicality of that.
He hated more that Ruth was right.
They began with the household accounts.
Celeste managed most of the online billing because Daniel traveled for work and disliked passwords. She had access to utilities, subscriptions, school forms, and the family’s shipping dashboard.
Daniel logged in from his laptop.
The delivery history went back eighteen months.
There were no packages from Ruth.
Ruth opened her email and pulled up confirmations from the postal service. Twelve parcels and letters, all delivered.
The tracking numbers matched Daniel’s address.
One Christmas package had been marked “left with individual.”
The recipient signature was a single letter C.
Daniel closed the laptop halfway.
“Nora never got the quilt.”
Ruth’s face did not change.
She had sewn a small patchwork quilt from Emily’s childhood dresses. Daniel remembered Ruth crying on the phone when she described it.
Celeste told him Ruth must have entered the address incorrectly.
“Where would she put it?” Daniel asked.
Ruth looked toward the mudroom.
“Somewhere she thought no one would search.”
At six, the automatic lights came on along the driveway.
A car turned in.
Nora slid from her chair and moved behind Ruth without being told.
Celeste entered carrying a small overnight bag.
She paused when she saw Ruth.
“What are you doing here?”
Ruth remained seated.
“Visiting my granddaughter.”
“You were asked to give us space.”
“That request has expired.”
Celeste looked at Daniel. “You called her?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you did.”
She set her bag on the floor. “One difficult afternoon, and you bring in the grand jury.”
Daniel kept his voice level.
“Where are Emily’s sketchbooks?”
Celeste’s eyes moved once toward the hallway.
It was small, but Ruth saw it.
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“The cabinet was forced.”
“Then ask Nora.”
Nora pressed closer to Ruth.
Celeste noticed and softened her tone.
“Nora, sweetheart, I’m not angry.”
Nora stared at the floor.
Ruth stood.
“Do not call her sweetheart while suggesting she broke a lock.”
Celeste gave Ruth a thin smile. “You have always wanted me to fail.”
“I wanted Daniel to wait before remarrying. That is not the same thing.”
“It felt the same.”
Ruth nodded. “I imagine it did.”
For one moment, Celeste seemed caught without the fight she expected.
Then Daniel asked about the Christmas quilt.
Celeste blinked.
“What quilt?”
“The one Ruth mailed last year.”
“I never saw it.”
“The delivery was signed with a C.”
“There are couriers named Chris.”
Ruth almost smiled.
“The postal carrier’s name is Denise.”
Celeste’s cheeks colored.
Daniel looked at her as if a door had opened in a familiar wall.
“Why would you take Nora’s mail?”
“I didn’t.”
“There are twelve deliveries.”
“I said I didn’t.”
The volume of her voice rose on the last word.
Nora covered one ear.
Daniel saw that too.
“Go upstairs,” he told Celeste.
Her mouth fell open.
“You’re sending me to my room now?”
“I’m asking you to pack enough clothes for a week.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
Celeste looked from Daniel to Ruth, then to Nora behind them.
“This is what she wanted,” she said, pointing at Ruth. “She never accepted that you chose a living woman.”
Ruth’s face went pale, but she did not answer.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Do not use Emily’s death as a weapon in front of her child.”
Celeste picked up her bag.
“You’ll regret letting them turn you against me.”
She climbed the stairs.
Ruth waited until the bedroom door closed.
Then she crouched beside Nora.
“Would you like to sleep in the guest room with me tonight?”
Nora nodded.
Daniel swallowed.
He wanted his daughter to choose him.
He also knew he had not yet earned first place in her fear.
While Celeste packed, Ruth helped Nora gather pajamas and her favorite stuffed rabbit.
Daniel stayed downstairs.
Twenty minutes later, Celeste returned with two suitcases.
She placed her house key on the console table.
“You are making a mistake,” she told him.
“Maybe. I have made several.”
That answer seemed to land where anger had not.
Celeste left.
Daniel locked the door behind her.
At nine, Nora finally fell asleep beside Ruth.
Daniel returned to the office and searched Celeste’s desk. He disliked himself for doing it, but dislike did not stop his hands.
The drawers held receipts, makeup samples, and color-coded folders.
In the lowest drawer, beneath a stack of design magazines, he found a key taped to the underside.
It fit Emily’s cedar cabinet.
Beside it lay a printed shipping receipt.
Daniel read the destination twice.
It was a storage facility outside Milwaukee.
The unit had been rented in Celeste’s name six months earlier.
The listed contents were “household textiles and framed art.”
Ruth came into the office in her robe.
Daniel handed her the receipt.
She sat slowly.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “we go there with a witness.”
He nodded.
Then Ruth pointed to the bottom of the page.
A second authorized user was listed on the unit.
Martin Vale.
May you like
Daniel’s chief financial officer had been his closest friend for twenty years.
Keep reading Part 4 — because the man Daniel trusted with his company had also been given access to Emily’s things.
