PART5 – Mama Left Me $18,940 in the Flour Tin She Never Let Us Touch—Then I Found a Note That Said, “Read This at First County Bank, Not in the House”
PART 5
I looked at Carol.
“Was there more?”
She nodded.
“Your mother left one final instruction.”
She handed me a sealed envelope.
My name was written on the front.
This one was different from the envelope in the flour tin.
There was a date beneath my name.
August 12.
Today’s date.
My throat tightened.
“She knew exactly when you would find it?” I asked.
Carol nodded.
“She told me that if you came here on August 12, I was to give you this.”
I looked at the envelope.
“Why today?”
Carol shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It was old.
Faded.
Bent at the corners.
I recognized the people immediately.
Wayne.
Daniel Mercer.
My mother.
Russell.
And me.
I was seventeen.
I was sitting in a wheelchair.
My leg was still in a cast.
We were standing outside the attorney’s office where my settlement had been finalized.
I stared at the picture.
There was something written on the back.
I turned it over.
My mother’s handwriting filled the page.
Linda, look at Russell’s left hand.
I looked at the photograph again.
Russell was standing behind my wheelchair.
His left hand was holding a manila envelope.
I zoomed in with my phone.
The envelope had a logo printed on it.
First County Bank.
My heart dropped.
“What is that?”
Carol leaned closer.
“I don’t know.”
I looked at the date on the photograph.
It was two days after the settlement was deposited.
I suddenly remembered something.
A conversation in the car.
Wayne had been driving.
Mama sat beside him.
Russell and I were in the back.
Wayne turned around and said, “Your money is safe, Linda.”
I had asked him where.
He laughed.
“It’s in the bank, sweetheart.”
Then Russell had squeezed my shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it.”
At seventeen, I believed them.
I believed everybody.
I looked at Carol.
“Can you tell me who withdrew the money?”
She nodded.
“I can show you.”
She pulled out another document.
The first withdrawal was $75,000.
Wayne.
The second was $25,000.
Daniel Mercer.
The third was $40,000.
Wayne.
The fourth was $20,000.
And the signature was mine.
I froze.
“My signature?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t my signature.”
Carol didn’t respond.
I looked closer.
It wasn’t even close.
Someone had forged my name.
My chest felt tight.
“Why would they need to forge my signature?”
Carol lowered her voice.
“Because the account was supposed to be yours.”
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