Chapter 12 - WHEN I WASN'T SAD EVERY DAY
I waited three days before opening Sophie’s envelope.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I wanted to choose the moment instead of letting grief choose it for me.
Sunday afternoon.
Ben and Jamie were outside.
Dad was at their baseball practice.
His third weekend showing up.
No cancellations.
No speeches.
Just presence.
Grace sat across from me.
I opened the envelope.
Mom,
If Mrs. Alvarez gives you this, maybe you’re not crying every morning anymore.
I laughed.
Then:
Or maybe Ben remembered where he put it, which would be surprising.
Grace laughed too.
Sophie continued.
I know you think being happy later means you didn’t love me enough.
My breath stopped.
Had I said that?
Maybe not aloud.
She still knew.
That is dumb.
I laughed through tears.
Then:
If I was alive I would be mad if everybody stayed sad forever because that would make my whole life depressing.
My girl.
Then she wrote about Ben.
Jamie.
Pancakes.
Horses.
Christmas.
Then:
Write books.
Not just about me.
Write funny ones too.
I stared at the line.
For nearly a year, I believed success meant continuing to mine the worst season of my life.
Sophie had given me permission to become more than the mother whose daughter died.
Then the final paragraph:
Also, Dad needs to stop acting weird.
Grace looked at me.
I kept reading.
He told me he was scared Mom would hate him forever.
I told him she might.
Fair.
Then:
But I think Dad should tell Mom what happened when I was little.
My pulse changed.
What happened?
I looked at Grace.
She shook her head.
No idea.
Sophie continued:
Dad said there was something about money from when I was born.
Then:
I don’t care because money is boring.
No details.
Just that.
I called Daniel.
He came over.
For the first time since Sophie’s death, he entered my house without Lauren.
“What happened when Sophie was born?”
His face changed.
Immediately.
So there was something.
“I should have told you.”
Of course.
“What?”
When Sophie was born, my parents had opened a college account.
I knew.
Small 529.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Another account.
My mother and father had received a settlement from a car accident years earlier.
They placed $120,000 into a custodial investment account for Sophie.
Why had I never seen it?
Because Daniel was custodian.
My parents had chosen him while we were married.
After our divorce, the account remained under his control.
Current value before Sophie died:
Approximately $186,000.
My stomach dropped.
“What happened to it after she died?”
Daniel looked sick.
Custodial accounts typically pass according to state law and beneficiary structure.
In this case, paperwork designated:
Sophie’s estate.
Her estate beneficiaries:
Her parents equally.
So half might have become mine.
I had never received notice.
Why?
Because after Sophie died, Daniel signed documents asserting there were no material custodial assets requiring separate administration.
“Where is the money?”
His eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
I stood.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“The account was emptied before she died.”
My entire body went cold.
“When?”
Three months before.
“By who?”
Daniel turned pale.
“Your mother had trading authority.”
Margaret.
Again.
Then he whispered:
“But she wasn’t the person who received the money.”
The entire $186,000 had been transferred to a company I had never heard of.
Parker Family Services LLC.
Owner:
My father?
No.
My mother?
No.
Registered owner:
May you like
Lauren Ellis.
My ex-husband’s wife.
