Chapter 4 - THE WATCH MY HUSBAND NEVER LOST
I read Walter's warning three times.
Don't trust the first person who brings you the blue folder.
My first instinct was to call Ryan.
My second was to remember that Walter had written those words the day before he died.
My husband had suffered a sudden heart attack.
There had been no suspicious accident, no unexplained visitor, no dramatic final conversation.
Just a perfectly ordinary Thursday morning that turned into the worst day of my life.
But apparently, Walter had been worried about something.
And he hadn't told me.
I sat at the kitchen table until nearly two in the morning, reading every receipt in the wooden box.
Most were ordinary.
Flour purchases.
Equipment repairs.
Payroll records.
Then I found a small handwritten note from a woman named Margaret Ellis.
Walter, please reconsider. Erica deserves to know what the new owners are planning.
The date was two weeks before his death.
Margaret had been our bookkeeper for twenty years.
After Walter passed, she moved to Cincinnati to live near her sister.
I hadn't spoken to her in almost five years.
The next morning, I was making coffee when Ryan's car pulled into the driveway.
He arrived carrying a blue folder.
Sophie was with him.
That surprised me.
“Lauren had an early meeting,” he explained. “Sophie's school is closed for a teacher workday.”
I stepped aside.
Sophie hugged me.
“Can we have pancakes?”
“Absolutely.”
Ryan gave a small, relieved smile.
Then I held up Walter's envelope.
His smile disappeared.
“Mom, where did you find that?”
“In the recipe box.”
He stared at it.
“Dad's handwriting?”
“Yes.”
I placed breakfast on the table before discussing anything serious.
Sophie ate two pancakes and helped me water the plants.
Then she settled in the living room with colored pencils.
Ryan opened the blue folder.
Inside were copies of the restaurant sale agreement and an unsigned catering proposal.
There was also a page showing projected income from something called the Knight's Table Heritage Collection.
I looked up.
“What's this?”
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
“Lauren started working with a branding consultant last year. They wanted to create a premium food line based on classic Midwestern recipes.”
“My recipes?”
“Mostly yours and Dad's.”
“Without asking me?”
He looked ashamed.
“I told her you probably wouldn't mind.”
“Ryan, that's not permission.”
“I know.”
I turned another page.
A projected revenue figure caught my attention.
Three hundred thousand dollars in the first year.
I sat back.
“That's a lot of money for food she calls garbage.”
Ryan winced.
“Mom, she doesn't actually hate your cooking.”
“Then she's spent six years pretending very convincingly.”
He stared at the table.
“She thinks you've always judged her.”
I almost laughed.
“I gave her my grandmother's wedding pearls.”
“I know.”
“I cooked through both of her difficult pregnancies.”
“I know.”
“I helped with her mortgage payments when she lost her first job.”
Ryan pressed his palms over his eyes.
“I know, Mom.”
I pushed the folder toward him.
“Then start acting like it.”
He nodded slowly.
Then I asked about the watch.
His expression changed.
“What watch?”
“Your father's silver pocket watch.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“Mom, I thought you buried him with it.”
“No.”
“Then where is it?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then Sophie appeared carrying a drawing.
“Daddy, is this the clock you mean?”
My heart skipped.
She had drawn a round silver watch with a chain.
“Where did you see that, sweetheart?”
“Mommy had it.”
Ryan stood.
“When?”
“On her desk. She said it was for pictures.”
I knelt.
“Did you see anything else?”
Sophie thought carefully.
“A red ribbon. And a little card.”
“What did the card say?”
She shrugged.
“I can't read all the fancy writing.”
I smiled.
“That's okay.”
She handed me the drawing.
On the watch face, she'd drawn a small blue star.
Walter's watch had exactly that mark.
A tiny blue enamel star above the number twelve.
My mother had given it to him on our tenth wedding anniversary.
I looked at Ryan.
“Your wife has your father's watch.”
He picked up his phone.
“I'm going to ask her.”
“No.”
He paused.
“For once, Ryan, I want to know the truth before somebody has time to arrange an explanation.”
I returned to the folder.
Near the back, a sheet had been tucked between two unrelated invoices.
It was an email printout.
The sender's name was Lauren Knight.
The recipient was Margaret Ellis.
The subject line read:
Walter Knight's Original Agreement.
The message was short.
I found the retained-rights clause. Ryan doesn't understand what it means. I need to know whether Erica can still challenge the sale.
Margaret's reply contained one sentence.
She can, and you know exactly why.
The date was eighteen months earlier.
I looked at my son.
“Ryan, how long has Lauren known?”
He read the email.
His face drained.
“Mom, I've never seen this before.”
Then he turned the page.
Stapled to the back was a photograph of Lauren standing beside an older woman outside a bank.
May you like
The woman was Margaret Ellis.
And between them, resting on the hood of a car, was Walter's silver pocket watch.
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