Chapter 2 - The Daughter Who Was Never Named
Elaine called Sophie six times the next morning.
Each call went to voicemail.
At seven thirty, she contacted the hospital and asked for the nursing floor.
A receptionist checked the schedule.
“Sophie Hale is not working today.”
“Is she ill?”
“I’m not authorized to share employee information.”
“I’m a family friend.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elaine nearly corrected her.
Sophie was more than a family friend.
She had entered Elaine’s life twelve years earlier during Richard’s first serious hospitalization. Sophie had been a twenty-two-year-old nursing student working overnight as a patient assistant.
Richard had been frightened and difficult. He pulled out his oxygen tube, refused medication, and accused the doctors of hiding information.
Sophie never lost patience.
She sat beside him during the worst nights, reading from the old detective novels he loved. When Elaine fell asleep in the waiting room, Sophie placed a blanket over her shoulders.
After Richard returned home, Sophie continued visiting.
At first, she came once a month.
Then once a week.
By the time Richard died, Sophie had become the closest thing Elaine had to a daughter.
Brandon disliked her from the beginning.
He called her overly attached.
Vanessa called her opportunistic.
Elaine had ignored them both.
Sophie had never asked for money, gifts, or favors. She brought meals, changed lightbulbs, drove Elaine to appointments, and remembered every anniversary that Brandon forgot.
Yet Elaine realized now that she knew surprisingly little about Sophie’s life before they met.
Sophie had said her parents died when she was young.
She had been raised by an aunt in another state.
She never showed childhood photographs.
She never spoke about her aunt by name.
And now she had transferred money from Richard’s family trust.
Elaine called Thomas Reed, the attorney who had handled Richard’s estate.
His assistant answered.
“Mr. Reed is unavailable.”
“This is Elaine Mercer.”
There was a pause.
“Mrs. Mercer, may I ask what this concerns?”
“The Richard Bennett Family Trust.”
The silence lasted too long.
“Mrs. Mercer, where did you hear that name?”
“It appeared on a bank transfer.”
“I see.”
“Is the trust still active?”
“I’m afraid I cannot discuss that by telephone.”
“I am Richard’s widow.”
“Yes, but you were not listed as a beneficiary.”
The words struck Elaine like cold water.
“Who was?”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry. Mr. Reed will contact you.”
“When?”
“He is currently out of the country.”
Elaine stared at the cashier’s check.
“Tell him Sophie Hale accessed the trust.”
The assistant inhaled sharply.
Then the line disconnected.
Elaine tried calling back, but the office phone went directly to a recorded message.
At eleven, she phoned the eye clinic.
The receptionist confirmed the payment and scheduled the procedure for Friday morning.
Elaine should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt as if she had stepped into a room where all the doors were quietly locking behind her.
That afternoon, Brandon called.
His voice was unusually casual.
“How are you feeling?”
Elaine looked toward the envelope on the kitchen table.
“I’m managing.”
“Did you find a way to pay the clinic?”
She hesitated.
“Why?”
“I’ve been thinking. Perhaps I could cover part of it.”
“Yesterday you said you couldn’t.”
“Vanessa and I discussed it.”
Elaine knew her son well enough to hear the lie.
“Someone helped me.”
The line became silent.
“Who?”
“A friend.”
“What friend?”
“Why does it matter?”
Brandon lowered his voice. “Was it Sophie?”
Elaine looked at the bank document again.
“How did you know?”
Brandon did not answer.
“Why would you assume it was Sophie?”
“She interferes in things that do not concern her.”
“My eyesight concerns her.”
“Mother, listen carefully. You cannot accept money from that woman.”
“That woman has cared for me more faithfully than my own family.”
“You don’t know who she is.”
The warning in his tone frightened her.
“Do you?”
Brandon exhaled.
“Return the money.”
“I already scheduled the procedure.”
“Cancel it.”
Elaine gripped the phone.
“You refused to help me, and now you want me to refuse help from someone else?”
“This is not about the operation.”
“Then tell me what it is about.”
“I can’t.”
“Or you won’t?”
Brandon spoke more quietly.
“If Sophie gives you anything else, do not open it. Call me immediately.”
Elaine looked toward the old family photographs.
One picture caught her attention.
Richard stood beside Brandon at a summer picnic. Behind them, half hidden by a tree, was a young girl wearing a yellow dress.
Elaine had always assumed she was one of Brandon’s classmates.
Now she was not sure.
“Brandon, who was your father’s trust created for?”
The line went dead.
That evening, Elaine removed every photograph from the shelves.
She examined them under the bright kitchen light.
Most contained familiar faces.
Neighbors.
Relatives.
Business associates.
But the girl in the yellow dress appeared in three photographs taken years apart.
In the first, she was perhaps four.
In the second, seven.
In the third, she stood near the edge of Richard’s funeral gathering, her face turned away from the camera.
Elaine’s pulse quickened.
She searched the funeral photograph until she found Sophie near the back of the crowd.
Sophie was wearing a black coat.
The girl in the yellow dress could not have been Sophie. The dates did not match.
But beside the unidentified girl stood a woman Elaine recognized.
Margaret Hale.
Richard’s longtime secretary.
Elaine had been told Margaret died in a car accident nearly twenty years earlier.
The phone rang behind her.
Elaine jumped.
The number was blocked.
She answered.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a woman said, “You should have left the envelope closed.”
“Who is this?”
“You are looking at the photographs, aren’t you?”
Elaine’s eyes moved toward the dark window.
Someone stood near the mailbox.
A figure under an umbrella.
“Who are you?”
The woman’s voice became colder.
“Ask Brandon what happened to the child his father brought home in 1998.”
The call ended.
May you like
By the time Elaine reached the front porch, the figure was gone.
On the mailbox, held beneath the metal flag, was a yellow ribbon.
