PART 10 – The Little Brass Key on My Kitchen Table Reminded Me That Trust Can Disappear Long Before Love Does

After Kevin left, Mrs. Collins came over and sat beside me.

She didn't ask whether I was all right.

She could see I wasn't.

Instead, she picked up the empty teacup from the table.

"Would you like some fresh tea?"

I nodded.

She went into the kitchen.

I listened to the kettle filling.

The familiar sound made me think of Walt.

He used to make tea every afternoon.

He always put too much sugar in mine.

I used to complain.

Now I would have given anything to hear him ask whether I wanted another cup.

Mrs. Collins returned with two mugs.

She placed mine carefully beside the brass key.

I looked at it.

"I never thought I'd ask him to give that back."

She sat down.

"Sometimes people make us do things we never expected."

I nodded.

For a while, we drank our tea.

Then I told her I wanted to have the locks changed.

She agreed that it was sensible.

I didn't want to make a dramatic decision.

I simply wanted to feel secure in my own home.

Mrs. Collins offered to help me find someone.

I thanked her.

Then I asked whether she could stay while I called.

She said she would.

I found a number in the local directory.

The person who answered said he could arrange a visit.

I explained that I needed the front and back door locks changed.

He asked whether it was urgent.

I looked at the brass key.

"Yes," I said.

The appointment was arranged for the following morning.

After I hung up, I felt strangely tired.

Not the kind of tiredness that comes from walking too far.

It was something deeper.

I had spent so many years believing that love meant being available whenever Kevin needed me.

I had forgotten that love did not require me to surrender everything.

Mrs. Collins stayed until lunchtime.

Before leaving, she checked that I had enough food.

She also reminded me to take my medication.

I thanked her.

Then I was alone again.

I walked slowly to the bedroom cabinet.

The package was still there.

I removed it and placed it on the bed.

I wanted to count the money myself.

Frank had told me everything was there.

But I needed to see it with my own eyes.

I opened the towel.

Inside were the bundles.

Some were held together with old paper bands.

Others had been placed in smaller envelopes.

Walt had always been particular about keeping things organized.

I recognized his handwriting on one envelope.

Emergency.

I touched the writing.

It had faded slightly.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, I was back in the garage with him.

He was standing beside the open trunk.

His hands were stained from working on the car.

He was explaining why the package needed to remain hidden.

I remembered laughing at him.

I remembered telling him that nobody would ever look under the spare tire.

He had smiled.

"That's the point, Peg."

I wiped my eyes.

Then I began counting.

It took time.

I had to stop twice because my hip hurt.

I checked each bundle carefully.

When I finished, the total was exactly what Frank had told me.

Forty-one thousand dollars.

Nothing missing.

I placed the money back inside the towel.

Then I folded the towel and put everything into the cabinet.

I locked the small cabinet drawer.

It wasn't a perfect solution.

But it was somewhere Kevin couldn't reach without my knowledge.

That evening, I ate the soup Mrs. Collins had brought.

I sat at the kitchen table.

The brass key was still there.

I picked it up and placed it inside a small dish.

I didn't want to throw it away.

It had belonged to our family for years.

But I no longer wanted it hanging beside my own keys.

The following morning, the locksmith arrived.

He was polite and efficient.

He changed the front door lock first.

Then he worked on the back entrance.

When he finished, he handed me two new keys.

I put one in my purse.

The other went into the kitchen drawer.

He asked whether I needed anything else.

I told him no.

After he left, I locked the front door and tested it twice.

It worked.

I stood there with my hand on the new lock.

I felt a little safer.

Not completely.

But enough to breathe.

Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Buyer Returned With More Than My Savings, and His Explanation Made Me Question What Kevin Had Told Him