Page 97 of The Me I Left Behind

Seventeen

The locksmith made quick work of the lockbox, popping open the lid within a few minutes. “That was easy,” he said, handing the box back to Julia.

Maggie watched her hold the box, staring down at it. She wondered if she had a premonition, of sorts, of something good or bad that would emerge from the dusty thing. Julia held onto it for a few seconds longer before looking at Maggie. “Let’s open it in the kitchen.”

“Sure.” She looked at the locksmith. “Please add that to my bill.”

He waved her off. “Didn’t take any time. That one’s on the house.”

“Well, I thank you.”

He handed her the paper invoice. Maggie gave it a quick peek, noticing the amount. “I have cash upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

She could hear Julia and the guy talking as she took the stairs. Getting the locks changed was a priority, she knew that, but the cost was going to deplete her meager savings. Still, she counted out three one-hundred-dollar bills, stuffed two more back in the jewelry box, and headed back downstairs.

She paid him. He left, and Maggie and Julia stood staring at each other.

“Let’s do this before I have to leave for kid pickup.”

They headed into the kitchen. Julia set the box on the island. “I don’t know why I feel kind of anxious about this.”

Maggie exhaled, deep and long. “I know. Me, too. It’s probably nothing. Right?”

“And it could be everything.”

“It could be the thing that I’ve been looking for—to get something damning on Max. Do you think?” That thought gripped her heart a little.

“We’ll never know if we don’t open it.”

“All right.” She grasped the box and flipped back the lid.

Both women peered over the meager contents.

“That’s a marriage license,” Julia said, picking it up to look closer.

Maggie plucked up the paper underneath it. “And this is a death certificate.”

“And those,” Julia added, pointing back into the box, “are wedding rings.”

They locked gazes.

“You first,” Maggie said. “Whose names are on the marriage certificate?” Like, she didn’t know Max was one of them already.

Julia gripped the paper. “Maxwell David Oliver and Caroline Susan McDowell, married May 22, 2001.” She quickly met Maggie’s gaze. “Well, that’s official. At least we know the woman’s name now. And the death certificate?”

Maggie took a sharp breath. “Same. Caroline Susan McDowell Oliver. Date of death, June 18, 2002.”

“Shit. That’s just a little over a year later.”

Why does that date, June 18, sound familiar?It would come to her, eventually.

Maggie felt a little dizzy and braced herself against a chair. “So, Max was married before he married me, and her name was Caroline? That motherfucker!” Maggie pushed away from the island and paced a few steps away, and back again. “He never told me. He never once said he’d ever been married before. I mean, it’s not like it would have mattered to me, or anything. People get married. People die. People remarry. Why did he keep it a secret?”

“Million-dollar question.” Julia took a beat, then moved closer to Maggie. “People usually keep secrets when they don’t want other people to know things. What I want to know is, what is thatthingabout this marriage that Max didn’t want you to know?”

“There has to be more.”

“Yes. I agree.”