Family Matters by Laurinda Wallace

compared the handwriting. She was correct. The writers were different. The note certainly sounded ominous. Who would have threatened Charlotte? She kept looking through the thick novel for any more hidden treasures. Sure enough, there were two more: Charlotte’s death certificate and a bad photocopy of a police report. The weariness that Gracie felt earlier was erased as she began to lay out the pieces of paper on the floor to try and make sense of Uncle Stan’s disturbing gift.
    She put the tea kettle on, set out a large white ceramic mug, and tossed a teabag in it. While the water was heating, she double-checked each book for any other papers that might be tucked inside. Nothing. The kettle whistle sounded, and she quickly shut off the burner and filled the mug. Carefully picking up the fragile papers, she placed them on the dining room table to take a closer look. Haley began to growl and was on her feet. Headlights flashed through the front windows. A car was turning into the driveway. She pulled the curtains back on the kitchen door. It was Isabelle.
    “Of all the nerve,” Gracie said to Haley. She swept up the clippings and other papers and dumped them in a kitchen drawer. Isabelle was already ringing her doorbell.
    Gracie answered the door with her hands on her hips.
    “What’s the problem, Isabelle?”
    “I know it’s late, Gracie, but I must have a look at the books Father gave you.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. What are you so worried about? He didn’t give me anything that affects the value of the estate.”
    Somehow Isabelle was now fully in her kitchen, scanning her counters.
    “Well, there were books that Mother promised to me that had great sentimental value, and I need to know if he gave them to you.”
    Isabelle had now seen the books lying on the living room floor. Gracie stood in her way as Isabelle attempted to step around her.
    “Wait a minute. Your dad gave these to me. He’s the next of kin, not you. I’ll go through them first. I’ll let you have what I don’t want.”
    “I’m the executor of the will. I’m in charge.”
    Charlotte’s diary was on the coffee table, and Gracie could see that Isabelle’s eyes had locked onto the distinctive cover.
    “What’s that? That looks like…” She strained to peer over Gracie’s shoulder. You have no right to have it.”
    Gracie thought frantically. “Sorry, Izzy. That’s my diary from high school. I’ve been looking over old pranks that I pulled with Michael and Jim.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “How dare you! You need to leave—now.”
    “You’ll hear from my attorney tomorrow.”
    “Great. You know the number.”
    Both of them were breathing heavily and glared at each other with stormy looks. Isabelle turned abruptly and slammed the door. Haley’s hackles were still raised as the Lexus sp ed out of the driveway. Hands shaking, Gracie grasped the mug and watched the taillights disappear in the darkness. Haley thrust her cold nose on Gracie’s leg and whined. “It’s OK, girl. The extremely difficult cousin is gone.”
    What was going on?  Uncle Stan had done her no favors with this gift. It was proving to be upsetting and really putting Isabelle over the edge. What was so important in the papers and the diary? Gracie locked the kitchen door and threw the deadbolt. She checked all the other doors before she settled onto the sofa with the papers. An unknown drunk driver had taken the life of a beautiful girl. There was no satisfactory ending to the story. What was the point in revisiting it?
    She read through each clipping. The newspaper reports were standard. They seemed to be of no value. There was a paragraph though that caught Gracie’s attention.
     
    Police continue to investigate the hit-and-run death of Charlotte Browne. A witness to the accident has given authorities a partial plate number. The vehicle is believed to be a late model sedan, dark blue or green with a plate number beginning with WY. Anyone with