Y is for Your
There was a connection, Caroline was certain of it. She’d felt it in a number of odd ways. Not things you could touch your hand to but a feeling of familiarity, like a place she’d once been to or someone she’d known in passing. Perhaps he’d been a distant cousin or youthful sweetheart. Caroline knew nothing about him, save this single thing: his picture was intended for her grandma, and now it was intended for her. Peter Pennington had said as much, and Peter was never wrong.
He’d been right about the desk, and he’d been right about the watch. Only the picture was still unexplained.
When she pulled the wastebasket from under the desk, Caroline already knew what she’d do. She’d take the picture back to Peter and ask him to reframe it. She thought back to the happiness on his face when he’d given her the gift. Surely he’d be willing to find a new frame. Caroline chuckled as she carefully lifted the larger pieces of broken glass and dropped them into the wastebasket. She knew chances were Peter could produce the exact same frame, right down to the tiny chip on the right-hand corner. How he did it, she couldn’t say, but it was mysterious and wonderful at the same time.
Caroline didn’t see the large brown envelope until she lifted the piece of cardboard backing the picture. She picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands.
It was a perfectly plain brown envelope. No markings, no name, no return address . Nothing. Thinking back Caroline remembered Peter’s words: This was intended for your grandma, and now you’re the one who should have it. Slowly and tentatively she lifted the flap and slid out the contents.
U.S. Railroad bond certificates. Ten of them. Each one with a face value of one hundred thousand dollars.
“Good grief!” Caroline exclaimed. If she had found a fifty-dollar bill she’d have been happy. If she’d found a one hundred-dollar bill, she would have been ecstatic, but a million dollars’ worth of bonds was too unbelievable.
“There’s got to be a mistake,” she mumbled. Opening the envelope she looked inside again. Nothing. It was empty. There was no note, no explanation. The envelope contained nothing but the bonds.