Chapter 8 - The Safe Left Open
I waited until Michael's footsteps went all the way down the stairs before I moved.
I stood in the bedroom doorway and listened. The caterers were clanking trays in the kitchen below. Someone laughed out on the driveway. The house was full but for maybe two minutes that bedroom was mine again, and I knew two minutes would have to be enough.
I stepped inside barefoot on the cold wood floor and shut the door behind me. I didn't lock it. A locked door in the morning would be remembered. I left it cracked just enough that I could hear if anyone came up the hall.
My scalp was throbbing under the bathroom light still spilling from the next room. I could feel every place the razor had dragged. I didn't look in the mirror again. I looked at the painting.
The large dark oil portrait hung straight, the way it always hung. My husband had picked it at an auction in Chicago years ago, a field at dusk that was almost black. Nobody ever looked at it twice, which was why we'd put the safe behind it.
I crossed to it and lifted from the bottom. The frame was heavier than I remembered. The wire caught for a second and then gave, and I swung it out on its side hinge and held it with my shoulder while I worked.
The safe sat flush in the wall. Dark blue-gray steel, silver keypad and dial. The little green light was still on from earlier that morning. I hadn't fully closed it after I'd looked the first time. I had meant to.
I punched in the code with the tip of my finger. My hand was shaking enough that I had to steady my wrist with my other hand. Four numbers. Our anniversary. The motor clicked and the door released.
The ivory envelope was right where it had always been, leaning against the back wall. Wedding Gift - Michael and Sabrina - $22,000,000. My own handwriting in black ink, neat cursive from the lawyer's office last month. Seeing the amount in my own hand made my stomach drop.
I took it out with both hands. It was thicker than a normal envelope, the check inside folded with the letter Michael's father had made me promise to include. I held it against my robe for a second so the silk wouldn't let it slip. The paper felt cool.
For a moment I just stood there with it. Downstairs a door slammed and a car started. Someone called Sabrina's name from the back lawn and I froze, the painting pressing into my shoulder.
Silence again. Hallway empty.
I eased the painting back into place with one hand and carried the envelope to the far side of the bedroom. My dressing table sat under the window, cream skirt to the floor, the little bench tucked under it. Nobody but me ever opened the bottom drawer where I kept the winter scarves and the cedar blocks. It had a small key lock built into the front, the key long lost, but the back panel had come loose two years ago and my cleaning girl and I were the only ones who knew you could slide it if you pressed hard.
I knelt down. The marble from the bathroom doorway was cold behind me, the wood here warmer under my knees. My robe pooled around my bare feet. I set the envelope on the floor for a second while I pulled the drawer open, moved the gray cashmere scarf aside, and felt for the gap behind.
The space was narrow and dusty. I slid the envelope in upright, spine down, between the back of the drawer and the dressing table frame. It fit. From the front, all anyone would see were folded scarves.
I pushed the drawer shut and sat back on my heels and checked. Nothing sticking out. Nothing visible from above. My breathing was loud in my ears.
I stood and went back to the wall. I swung the painting out again and shut the safe door properly this time. I turned the dial until it locked and watched the green light go red and then dark. I entered the code once more just to be sure it caught, then locked it again. Closed. Blank. Untouched.
I straightened the portrait with both hands until the bottom edge was level.
May you like
I didn't write a note. I didn't text Michael. I didn't take a picture. Anything written could be found.
I smoothed down my robe, wiped the dust off my fingers onto the inside seam where it wouldn't show, and opened the bedroom door a little wider, the way it had been.
