I asked Patricia to start from the beginning.
Not the version she thought would upset me least.
Everything.
She nodded.
Then she folded her hands in her lap.
"About three weeks before Elora came to stay with you, she knocked on my door."
I listened.
"She looked worried. She wasn't using a walking aid then, and she seemed perfectly healthy."
I frowned.
"She wasn't injured yet?"
"Not when I first saw her."
That surprised me.
I thought about the phone call.
Elora had told me she had broken her leg the previous week.
I looked at Patricia.
"Are you saying she visited you before the accident?"
"Yes."
I couldn't understand it.
"Why?"
Patricia glanced at the shoebox.
"She wanted to ask me about something that happened years ago."
"What?"
"Something involving your house."
I stared at her.
"My house?"
She nodded.
"She asked whether you had ever found an old storage space behind the wall in your spare bedroom."
I slowly turned toward the hallway.
My spare bedroom.
The room where Elora had slept for four weeks.
I had lived in that house for almost six years.
I knew its layout.
I knew where the pipes ran.
I knew which floorboards creaked.
There was no hidden room.
At least, none that I knew about.
"Why would she ask about that?"
Patricia shook her head.
"She didn't explain everything to me."
I looked at the photograph again.
The narrow door.
The filing cabinet.
The faded wallpaper.
I tried to place it.
Something about the room looked familiar, but I couldn't say why.
Patricia leaned closer.
"Elora told me that your house had once belonged to someone connected to her late husband."
I froze.
"What?"
"She mentioned that the property had a history."
I shook my head.
"My house belonged to an older couple before I bought it."
"She knew that."
"Then what does her husband have to do with it?"
Patricia hesitated.
"That's what I think she wanted to find out."
I felt a headache forming.
My house had never been a family property.
I had purchased it after my divorce.
I had spent months looking for somewhere affordable and quiet.
The previous owners had been elderly.
The sale had been ordinary.
At least, that's what I believed.
"Did Elora say she knew something about the house?"
"She said there was a room that might have been covered over during renovations."
I looked at the photograph.
"Is this it?"
"I think so."
I turned the photograph over again.
Ask Claire about the old room.
The handwriting was definitely Elora's.
"Why didn't she ask me directly?"
Patricia looked down.
"She was afraid you would refuse."
That answer hurt more than I expected.
Elora knew me.
She knew I would listen.
She knew I had never turned her away.
Why would she believe I would refuse to answer a simple question?
Unless there was something she wasn't telling me.
I picked up the black notebook.
"Let's look at the rest."
Patricia nodded.
I turned several pages.
There were more notes about my routine.
But farther toward the middle, the writing changed.
There were names.
Shane.
Melissa.
Daniel.
And another name I didn't recognize.
I pointed at it.
"Who is this?"
Patricia leaned over.
"That was the name Elora mentioned when she came to see me."
"Do you know him?"
"No."
I read the notes again.
There were references to meetings.
Documents.
An address.
And a phrase that appeared several times.
Original copy.
I turned another page.
This time, there was a short list.
Three children.
One house.
One agreement.
No signatures.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Was Elora having trouble with her children?"
Patricia nodded slowly.
"She had been upset for quite a while."
"About what?"
"She believed they were trying to make decisions about her property without telling her everything."
I looked at the names.
Shane.
Melissa.
Daniel.
My former husband.
I immediately wanted to close the notebook.
I had made a promise to myself years earlier.
I wouldn't allow Shane to become part of my daily life again.
But there he was.
His name was written in Elora's handwriting.
I couldn't pretend I hadn't seen it.
"Did she tell you what they were planning?"
"Only that she didn't trust the paperwork they wanted her to sign."
I frowned.
"What paperwork?"
Patricia didn't know.
She said Elora had spoken about a family agreement.
Something connected to her late husband's estate.
Apparently, her children had encouraged her to sign several documents over the previous year.
They told her it would make things easier.
They told her it would protect the family home.
They told her it was only routine.
But Elora had become suspicious.
She believed the documents didn't match what her husband had intended.
I looked at Patricia.
"Why would she involve me?"
Patricia was quiet.
Then she said something that made me remember the photograph.
"Because your house may hold the missing piece."
I stared at her.
"What missing piece?"
She shook her head.
"She didn't tell me exactly."
I put the notebook down.
I was no longer simply curious.
I was frightened by the possibility that something connected to my own property had been hidden from me.
Patricia pointed toward the photograph.
"Look at the bottom corner."
I picked it up.
There was a small mark beside the filing cabinet.
At first, I thought it was a shadow.
Then I noticed the shape.
A metal plate.
And beneath it, a tiny number.
214\.
The same number as the luggage tag.
I held the photograph closer.
"That's not a coincidence."
Patricia nodded.
"I don't think so."
I turned the photograph over again.
Then I looked at the envelope containing the unfamiliar letter.
The words about original papers suddenly seemed less ordinary.
I had thought Elora was simply recovering from an injury.
Now I was beginning to understand that her four weeks in my house had been connected to something much older.
Something involving her husband.
Something involving her children.
And possibly something hidden in a room I had never known existed.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: I Returned to the Spare Bedroom and Examined the Wall Elora Had Watched So Carefully, Only to Discover a Detail I Had Missed
I Thought My Marriage Was the Only Thing My Ex-Husband’s Family Had Taken From Me, Until His Mother Needed My Help
Part 6 of 20
