A small sound escaped my mouth before I could stop it.
“Stella? Sweetie, is everything all right down the hall?” Amber called.
“Yes! Just give me one moment!”
I searched faster. The postmarks moved forward through the years.
Then I found the prize — a paper envelope near the top with a brand-new stamp.
Only nine days old.
“Oh my goodness,” I whispered.
“Stella?”
Amber’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
I shoved the letters into my bag, into my coat, into the waistband of my pants — anywhere they would fit.
“Stella, what in the world are you—”
Amber stopped right at the closet doorway.
Her face shifted through three expressions in a single heartbeat. Confusion. Realization. Then something far colder than anything I had ever seen from her.
“Return those items immediately, or I will make sure your dad never speaks to you or your sister for the rest of your lives.”
Every single fear from my childhood crashed down on my shoulders.
I stared straight at her, unable to speak, knowing completely that her threat was real, and certain that if anyone could make it happen, it was this woman.
“I mean it.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “Your dad is going to walk through that door any second. Put those things down, sit at the table, finish your quiche, and we will never speak of this again. This is the absolute last chance I am giving you, Stella.”
The front door unlocked with a click right at that moment.
Amber exhaled. “It appears your time is up.”
I completely panicked.
“Dad! Please come here, you have to see—”
I stopped mid-sentence because Amber’s hand shot forward and clamped onto my arm. Hard.
