The wooden box on the kitchen table caught my eye. I had to tell Violet about the will and I needed to figure out where I would live. The thought of moving away from Joe filled me with sadness. You’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s nothing between you and Joe. But I hoped there was anyway.

I picked up the phone, took a deep breath and called Violet. She answered, her tone cool but not as chilly as before. Of course, she knew it was me from her caller ID.

“I miss you, Violet. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I miss you too. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

I started to cry. “Of course! You’re my sister, I have to forgive you.”

We laughed, still awkward in our reconciliation.

“Look, Violet, we need to talk about Momma’s will.”

“Oh! How could I forget all about that? I’m sure it won’t be that big a deal.”

I forced cheerfulness into my voice. “I wondered if I could run over later and we could look over it?”

“Sure, want to come over for lunch? Then we can chat while Ashley and Mikey nap.”

Lunch sounded like a terrible idea. The March of Protest began rumbling in my gut at the thought of it. “How about I skip lunch and come at naptime. My stomach hasn’t been the best.”

“Oh sure, darlin’. It’s probably nerves.”

I wanted to say, No, I’m sure it’s the beer, but didn’t trust Violet’s reaction, so I said nothing.

“Why don’t you come around two?”

I hoped that gave me enough time to get myself together. “Yeah, see you then.”

I got a glass of water and lay down in my bed. I had woken up there that morning, but for the life of me couldn’t remember how I got there. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on Joe’s lap, which brought a combination of embarrassment and joy. The logical explanation was that Joe helped me get here. A moment of panic filled me at the thought of being so out of it that I didn't remember going to bed. But I woke up fully clothed, minus my shoes. If Joe wanted to take advantage of me, he would have done it when I flung myself at him.

I napped, and felt a little better when I got up. Crackers and a hot shower also helped. When I arrived at Violet’s house, my stomach had settled, but my head still ached a bit, nothing I couldn't manage.

I placed the trunk in a large paper shopping bag. I figured it was part of the will so I should bring it to show Violet. But anxiety ate at me as I knocked on Violet’s door. I told myself I had nothing to be nervous about. It couldn’t get any worse.

When Violet opened the door, she pulled me into a hug, the bag banging against the door.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Are the kids down for their nap?”

“Yeah, let’s go into the kitchen.”

Violet poured glasses of tea for both of us, which I had trouble choking down. I hadn’t decided if I would admit to the getting-drunk part, but I knew I couldn’t leave until I told her about the kissing part of the previous night.

I set the envelope on the table and slid it to her. “Read this.”

I sat back, gnawing on my lower lip. Violet sensed my anxiety and narrowed her eyes as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the papers.

I watched her face as she read, her expression changing from concentration to surprise, then horror. She looked up with huge eyes, the color drained from her face. “Oh, my goodness! I had no idea! I swear to you, Rose. I had no idea.”

“I know, Vi. I know you didn’t.”

“What are we gonna do?” Her question sounded like a wail.

“I don’t know. I guess you need to decide what you’re going to do with the house.”

“But that’s not right, Rose. It’s not fair.”

We sat in pain filled silence. Finally, I patted her hand. “It is what it is.”

“But I don’t want it all! I want you to have half.”

I twisted my mouth into a lopsided smile. “I got somethin’, too.”

“What?”

I pulled the box out of the paper bag and set it on the table. “This.”

“What in tarnation is that?”

“I believe it is the wooden box bequeathed to me in Momma’s will. You’ll see it on the next page.”

Violet flipped the page, running her finger down the print until she found my name. After reading it, she looked up, fire burning in her eyes. “What the hell?”

“Violet Mae!”

“What kind of nonsense is this? A wooden box? What’s in there?”

I scooted it toward her. “I have no idea. It’s locked.”

She fumbled with the padlock. “We have to figure out how to get this off.”

“I know, but I have no idea how. I couldn’t find the key.” Part of me didn’t care what was in there. Anything from Momma couldn't be good.

Violet grabbed a dishtowel and scrubbed the dust off the top of the box. “There’s writin’ under all this dust!” She bent over the box again, invigorated by her discovery, and traced the etching with her fingers. “It says Dora.”

“Who’s Dora?” I couldn’t remember Momma or Daddy ever mentioning a Dora.

“I don't know…” her voice trailed off as she turned the box around, looking for more clues. “It’s kinda like our very own mystery.”

My laugh was only slightly bitter. “Yeah, I suppose it is. We could have our very own Let’s Make a Deal. Violet Beauregard, do you want to trade your inheritance for the mysterious contents of a small wooden box?”