Chapter 6
The first thing Dad did was make sure the children's art program continued.
He didn't wait for the investigation to finish.
He didn't wait for the money to be recovered.
He called the community center and asked what supplies were needed.
Then Aunt Nia and I went shopping.
We bought crayons.
Markers.
Paintbrushes.
Colored paper.
Glue.
Sketchbooks.
And small boxes of watercolor paints.
I chose a big package of pink glitter pens.
Aunt Nia laughed.
"Your mother would've approved."
I smiled.
"She liked sparkles."
My aunt nodded.
"She sure did."
We filled the back of Dad's SUV with supplies.
Then we drove to the community center.
The building wasn't fancy.
The walls needed painting.
Some tables had scratches.
But the art room was filled with children's drawings.
Bright flowers.
Animals.
Houses.
Rainbows.
And pictures of families.
I loved it immediately.
A woman named Mrs. Collins greeted us.
She had worked with my mother years earlier.
When she saw me, her eyes filled.
"Lily?"
I nodded.
She knelt.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Then she hugged me.
"You look so much like your mama."
For the first time, those words didn't make me sad.
They made me smile.
Mrs. Collins noticed my uneven hair.
But she didn't ask questions.
She simply touched one of my pink beads.
"Your mother loved these."
I nodded.
"She did."
Then I looked toward the art supplies.
"Can we give these to the kids?"
Mrs. Collins smiled.
"Absolutely."
A few minutes later, children gathered around the tables.
I helped pass out crayons.
One little boy looked at the new paints.
His eyes widened.
"Are these really for us?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
He grinned.
"Can I use purple?"
I laughed.
"Of course."
A girl beside him held up a sketchbook.
"I never had one this big."
My chest tightened.
I thought about the missing memorial money.
Then I looked toward Dad.
He was standing near the doorway.
His eyes were wet.
I ran toward him.
"Daddy?"
He knelt.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Can we bring more stuff next time?"
He smiled.
"Absolutely."
I hugged him.
For the first time, I felt like Mommy's party was happening anyway.
Not in a ballroom.
Not with expensive dresses.
But in a room full of children making beautiful things.
That evening, Dad told Aunt Nia what Rachel had discovered.
I wasn't supposed to hear everything.
But I knew it involved Vanessa and someone named Victor Lane.
Victor was a man who sometimes visited our house.
He wore expensive suits and talked about investments.
I didn't like him.
He always called me "little princess" in a voice that sounded fake.
Once, I saw him arguing with Vanessa in the driveway.
She told him to leave before Dad came home.
I hadn't thought about it again.
Now I wondered why.
The next morning, Dad asked whether I remembered seeing Victor at home.
I nodded.
"Yes."
He looked surprised.
"When?"
I thought carefully.
"Sometimes."
"Did Vanessa ever ask you to keep his visits secret?"
I looked down.
"She said grown-up business wasn't for kids."
Dad closed his eyes.
I continued.
"Once she told me not to tell you he was in Mommy's room."
Dad became still.
"What room?"
I frowned.
"The little room with Mommy's pictures."
My father had kept a small sitting room filled with my mother's belongings.
There were books.
Photographs.
Old art supplies.
And a wooden chest.
Vanessa rarely let me enter.
She said it was dusty.
I looked up.
"Victor was there with her."
Dad swallowed.
"What were they doing?"
I hesitated.
"They had papers."
He nodded.
"Okay."
I continued.
"And Vanessa was holding the blue box."
Dad's expression changed.
"What blue box?"
"The one with Mommy's bracelets."
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he gently took my hand.
"Thank you for telling me."
I nodded.
"Am I in trouble?"
His face softened.
"No, sweetheart."
I looked down.
"Vanessa said I wasn't supposed to look."
Dad pulled me close.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
He kissed my forehead.
Then he called Rachel.
I heard him say something about an inventory of Danielle's jewelry.
Then something about the memory box.
His voice sounded very serious.
That afternoon, Aunt Nia took me to Dr. Brooks again.
I drew a picture of the community center.
Children were sitting around a table.
They had paintbrushes and crayons.
I drew Mommy standing beside them.
Dr. Brooks smiled.
"Tell me about this picture."
I pointed toward the children.
"Mommy wanted them to have art supplies."
She nodded.
"And how do you feel when you help them?"
I thought about it.
Then smiled.
"Happy."
She looked at me.
"That's a lovely feeling."
I touched my headband.
Then whispered, "I still get scared when I hear buzzing."
Dr. Brooks nodded.
"That makes sense after what happened."
I looked down.
"Will it stop?"
She answered gently.
"With time and support, those reminders can become less frightening."
I nodded.
Then she asked what helped me feel safe.
I thought about Dad.
Aunt Nia.
The community center.
The children laughing.
And the pink beads in my hair.
I smiled.
"My family."
Dr. Brooks nodded.
"That's important."
Then I added something.
"The family that doesn't hurt me."
Her eyes softened.
"Yes, Lily."
For the first time, I understood that family didn't simply mean people who lived in the same house.
It meant people who made me feel safe.
That evening, Dad returned from a meeting looking exhausted.
He sat beside me.
I was drawing on the living room floor.
I looked up.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you find Mommy's bracelets?"
His expression changed.
He took a breath.
"Some of them."
My stomach tightened.
"Where were they?"
He looked toward Aunt Nia.
Then back at me.
"They were listed in records connected to a private jewelry dealer."
I frowned.
"Why?"
Dad's eyes filled.
"That's what we're trying to understand."
I touched the little pink beads in my hair.
Then whispered, "Vanessa said Mommy's things were old."
Dad swallowed.
I continued.
"She said nobody wanted them."
My father's face crumpled.
He pulled me close.
"Your mother's things are precious because they belonged to her."
I nodded.
Then he whispered, "And somebody had no right to take them."
A few minutes later, Rachel called.
Dad answered.
His expression became grim.
Then he looked toward Aunt Nia.
"The jewelry dealer confirmed receiving several pieces from Danielle's collection."
My heart pounded.
Dad listened.
Then asked, "And the proceeds?"
He became silent.
Aunt Nia stepped closer.
"What happened?"
Dad lowered the phone.
His voice shook.
"The money went to Victor Lane's company."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
May you like
Then Dad whispered something that frightened me.
"Vanessa wasn't just trying to hide the letters. She was trying to hide what she'd sold."
