Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“Let us go home first,” I said.
We drove back to Martha’s house in silence, the afternoon light turning the live oaks along the boulevard a deep, dark green. Martha was waiting on her front porch, her wool shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders as she watched the street.
“Is it done?” she asked as I got out of the car.
“The judge signed the order,” I said, walking up the steps to meet her.
“Thank God,” Martha said, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “Sable’s car was at the house twenty minutes ago. She stayed five minutes and left with three boxes.”
“Did she take the silver?” I asked.
“She didn’t have time,” Martha said. “She was driving like the devil was behind her.”
I walked into Martha’s hallway and looked at my three brown leather suitcases sitting by the door.
“I will help you carry them over,” Martha said.
“Only two of them,” I said, looking at the smallest suitcase, the one containing my summer dresses.
“Why only two?” Martha asked.
“The other one is already packed for Cancun,” I said.
