Chapter 26 - The Woman Behind the Fence
Three weeks after Matilda’s third birthday, I noticed the woman for the first time.
She stood across the street from my Church Hill studio beneath a red maple tree, pretending to study her phone.
At first, I thought she was waiting for a rideshare.
Then I saw the camera.
Not a phone camera.
A real one.
Long lens.
Professional body.
Pointed directly at my studio.
I lowered the blinds.
“Everything okay?” Zora asked from the front desk.
At seventy-five, Zora had somehow become even more protective with age.
“There’s a woman outside.”
Zora immediately reached for the baseball bat I kept behind the counter.
“Not that kind of problem.”
“All problems are that kind until proven otherwise.”
I laughed despite myself.
When I looked again, the woman was gone.
That evening, I picked Matilda up from preschool and drove home.
She spent the entire ride telling me about a classmate named Olivia who had apparently committed the unforgivable crime of using purple glitter on a blue butterfly.
When we reached our house, there was an envelope tucked beneath the front door.
No stamp.
No address.
Just my name.
IMAGIN.
Inside was an old photograph.
My grandfather.
Dad’s father.
He was standing beside a woman I had never seen before.
She was young, maybe twenty-five, with dark curls and a camera around her neck.
On the back, someone had written:
ASK GERALD WHY HE NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT ELISE.
My stomach tightened.
Grandfather had been dead for fourteen years.
The trust fund Dad discovered after his heart attack had been established by him.
A fund specifically protecting artists, independent children, and single parents.
At the time, I thought it was simply evidence that Grandfather had understood people like me better than Dad had.
Now I wondered why.
I called Dad.
He answered cheerfully.
“Hey, Emmy. Your mother wants to know whether Tilly still hates green beans.”
“Dad.”
My voice changed everything.
“What happened?”
“Who is Elise?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“Where did you hear that name?”
My heart beat faster.
“Answer me.”
Another pause.
“Emmy, this isn’t something we should discuss on the phone.”
I sat down slowly.
“Then come over.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
He arrived forty-five minutes later.
Mom came with him.
That worried me more.
Dad looked older as he entered my living room.
He saw the photograph on the table.
His face lost color.
Mom whispered, “Oh, Gerald.”
I folded my arms.
“Start talking.”
Dad sat.
He rubbed both hands over his knees.
“Elise Mercer was my father’s business partner.”
“That’s not all.”
“No.”
Mom sat beside him.
Dad looked at me.
“She was also your grandfather’s daughter.”
I stopped breathing.
“My aunt?”
Dad nodded.
“His oldest child.”
“Why have I never heard of her?”
Dad looked away.
“Because she disappeared thirty-six years ago.”
I stared at the photograph again.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
Dad swallowed.
“She accused the family of stealing from her.”
The room went silent.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
May you like
One message.
YOU’RE LIVING ON MONEY THAT BELONGS TO MY MOTHER.
