While Mrs. Anderson continued sharing memories, Emerald noticed her mother approaching the casket. Victoria glanced around cautiously, as if checking to see who might be watching.
Then she leaned in and slipped something inside the casket—a small package wrapped in fabric.
When she stood upright again, her eyes scanned the room nervously before she walked away. Her heels clicked softly against the hardwood floor, the sound somehow ominous.
“Did you see that?” Emerald whispered, her pulse suddenly racing.
“See what, dear?” Mrs. Anderson asked.
“My mom just…” Emerald trailed off as she watched Victoria disappear into the restroom. “Never mind. Maybe it’s just the grief making me imagine things.”
But a heavy unease settled inside her chest. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years—everyone in the family knew about their strained relationship.
And there was no reason Grandma would have asked for something to be placed in her coffin without telling Emerald, her closest confidante.
Something wasn’t right.
The Decision to Investigate
As evening fell and the last mourners drifted out, the scent of lilies and roses hung thick in the air. Victoria had left earlier, claiming a migraine.
But her strange behavior gnawed at Emerald’s mind.
“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, approached gently. His kind face reminded her of her grandfather, who they’d lost five years earlier.
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Mr. Peters.”
When his footsteps faded down the hallway, Emerald returned to the casket. The room felt heavier now, as though it held secrets suspended in the thick silence.
Her heartbeat echoed loudly in the stillness. She leaned closer and noticed something—just beneath the fold of Grandma’s favorite blue dress, the one she’d worn to Emerald’s graduation.
The corner of something wrapped in blue cloth peeked out.
Guilt tugged at Emerald’s conscience. Loyalty to her mother warred with the need to protect her grandmother’s wishes and dignity.
But in the end, honoring Grandma mattered more than anything else.
Retrieving the Hidden Package
Emerald’s hands shook as she carefully reached into the casket. She removed the package as gently as possible and tucked it into her purse.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she whispered, touching Catherine’s cold hand one last time. The wedding ring on her finger glinted in the soft light—a final shimmer of the warmth she’d always carried.
“But something isn’t right. You always told me to trust my instincts. You said truth matters more than comfort.”
Those had been Catherine’s exact words during one of their many heart-to-heart conversations over tea.
Back home that night, Emerald sat in her grandmother’s old reading chair—the one Catherine had insisted she take when she downsized last year.
The package rested heavily in her lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.
She recognized the embroidered “C” in the corner immediately. She’d watched her grandmother stitch it years ago while telling stories of her childhood in the countryside.
“What are you hiding, Mom?” Emerald murmured to herself, untying the worn twine with trembling fingers.
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