Bertha Mae pushed an envelope towards Vanessa. It had been sitting on the table all this time, right next to the fruit bowl, salt and pepper shaker and the afternoon mail. However, this envelope couldn't have been confused with the mail because it was a big manila type envelope with a metal clasp at top, which kept it closed.
Vanessa could see that it wasn't new. She dropped back down into her chair and reached for it a few seconds after eyeing her grandmother. She opened the clasp and withdrew the contents. It contained a dog-eared copy of her mother's life insurance policy. Her mother's checkbook from 1978, a carbon copy of a bank statement that Vanessa couldn't read because her eyes were so filled with tears. And finally there were the monthly statements from her grandmother's own ban
