My Aunt Sammie appeared beside me and hugged me tightly.
“You don’t have to stay here alone,” she said softly. “You can come stay with me.”
“This is my home,” I replied.
She smiled the same way she always did. “We’ll talk later.”
Just then, someone called my name.
“Clover?”
I turned and saw an older man in his late sixties. His tie looked too tight, and he held his cup with both hands.
“Did you know my dad from work?” I asked.
“I knew him a long time,” he said. “Name’s Frank.”
I searched his face but couldn’t place him.
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
“You weren’t meant to,” he replied quietly.
That answer made me pause.
He stepped closer, glancing around the room before lowering his voice.
“If you want to know the truth about what happened to your mother,” he said, “check the bottom drawer in your stepdad’s garage.”
My heart skipped.
“What?”
“I promised him,” Frank continued. “This was part of it.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he said, handing me a business card. “I wish your parents were still here for you.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd as if he’d never been there.
His words echoed in my mind long after.
Check the bottom drawer.