PART 9: JANICE’S FIRST WORDS
Nobody moved.
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us.
The doorbell rang again.
Three short chimes.
Then Janice spoke through the glass.
“Marguerite, I know you’re home.”
Her voice was exactly as I remembered.
Warm.
Patient.
The kind of voice people trusted before they realized they shouldn’t.
Dale stood so abruptly his chair tipped backward.
“Don’t answer it.”
I looked at him.
“You seem awfully frightened of a woman you haven’t seen in twenty-eight years.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No,” I said quietly.
“I don’t.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m opening the door.”
I reached for the handle.
Dale grabbed my wrist.
“Please.”
It was the first time he had ever said that word to me.
Please.
Not because he was worried about me.
Because he was terrified of her.
Linda stepped between us.
“Take your hand off Mrs. Ellis.”
Dale let go immediately.
I unlocked the door.
Janice Holloway smiled as if she had been invited for coffee.
She wore a cream-colored jacket despite the summer heat.
Her silver hair was neatly styled.
In one hand she carried a thick manila envelope.
In the other, a box of lemon cookies.
“For lunch,” she said pleasantly.
No one accepted them.
Her eyes moved slowly around the kitchen.
She recognized Colleen first.
“My goodness.”
“It’s been years.”
Colleen didn’t answer.
Then Janice looked at Dale.
“I told you not to panic.”
He stared at the floor.
Finally, her eyes settled on me.
“You must be Marguerite.”
“I’ve wanted to meet you properly.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
She smiled again.
“I imagine you have questions.”
“I have plenty.”
“Good.”
She set the envelope on the table without asking permission.
“Because I brought answers.”
Paula finally found her voice.
“Who are you?”
Janice looked at her kindly.
“I’m the woman your husband should have told you about twenty years ago.”
Paula turned toward Dale.
He still hadn’t looked up.
Linda crossed her arms.
“You’ve admitted to participating in fraudulent filings.”
Janice laughed softly.
“No.”
“I admitted nothing.”
“I simply came to correct a misunderstanding.”
“What misunderstanding?” Linda asked.
Janice tapped the envelope.
“The misunderstanding that Dale is the villain.”
Every person in the room stared at her.
She opened the envelope and removed several documents.
Some were old.
Some looked brand new.
She slid one across to me.
It was a photocopy of a handwritten letter.
At the bottom…
I recognized my late husband’s signature.
My heart stopped.
Harold’s handwriting.
The same looping letters I’d seen on birthday cards for forty-eight years.
My hands began to shake.
“No…”
I whispered.
“That’s impossible.”
Janice’s expression softened.
“It isn’t.”
Linda picked up the letter.
Her eyes narrowed as she read.
“This can’t be right.”
“What?” I asked.
She looked from the letter to me.
“Mrs. Ellis…”
“This letter was written six months before your husband died.”
“So?”
“It says he asked someone to protect you.”
I frowned.
“Protect me from what?”
Linda swallowed.
“It doesn’t say.”
“It only says…”
She looked back at the page.
“‘If anything happens to me before Marguerite learns the truth, promise me she never signs another property document without knowing everything.’”
The room fell silent.
My husband had never mentioned such a letter.
Not once.
Janice folded her hands.
“I kept my promise.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You expect me to believe you’ve been protecting me?”
“No.”
“I expect you not to believe me.”
She looked toward Dale.
“Because that’s exactly what Harold said would happen.”
Then she reached into the envelope one last time.
This time she removed a faded photograph.
It showed my husband.
Harold.
Janice.
And one more man.
The moment Dale saw that fourth face…
he stumbled backward until he hit the refrigerator.
His lips trembled.
He whispered just one name.
“Richard…”
Janice slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
“The man who started all of this.”
And according to Harold’s letter…
he was never caught.
