Allie hit a key on her keyboard to display her calendar. Blank. The rest of the day was open except for coffee with Jack at two.
“I can come anytime after three,” she said. Jack probably couldn’t take more than an hour off from his job, whatever that might be. Surprisingly, that particular subject hadn’t come up.
As soon as she hung up, she searched online to find out what a Jack Russell terrier looked like so she wouldn’t look stupid and inexperienced when she picked up the dog. The beagle part was easy. Isn’t that what Snoopy from the Peanuts comic strip was?
She was about to become a first-time pet owner. Wow. How weird did that sound? Almost stranger than saying she was Harvey’s foster mom.
* * *
CHARLOTTE WAS DUSTY and dirty by the time she brought down the first of many boxes containing her mother’s files that were still in the attic. The plastic tubs felt heavier than she remembered as she carefully made her way down the folding steps to the guest room on the second floor.
She was anxious to continue searching for clues about her adoption, deciding to go through each file meticulously, not putting the boxes back in her attic again. Of course, that would take time, but she didn’t want to miss anything, and she certainly didn’t want to go through them again later.
She’d covered the hardwood floor of her spare bedroom with an old sheet to protect the surface. She hadn’t gotten around to furnishing the room yet, so it was a large empty space. When her college friend had visited several weeks ago, Charlotte had given Joanie her own bed, and Charlotte had slept on an inflatable air mattress in the spare room. She wasn’t expecting more company anytime soon, so using the room to spread out Mom’s papers should work perfectly.
“Bank statements, receipts, tax returns,” she said aloud. “Even her pay stubs from when she worked at a fast-food chain in high school.” Charlotte couldn’t help laughing.
She had to admit that even though her mother might seem like a hoarder to some, the files were definitely meticulously organized.
A thought came to her. Would her mother have had to pay money at the time of Charlotte’s adoption? If so, a receipt of such a transaction might give Charlotte a clue about who her mother had dealt with. She must have at least paid for legal or medical expenses. Charlotte searched the box for records from 1986. Nothing. Wrong box.
She carefully climbed back into the attic to find the right box. The two bare bulbs with pull chains didn’t provide the best light, so she had to bring several boxes down before she found the right one.
With each descent, she checked the box to see if it contained the bank statements from 1986. Finally, on the fourth box, she found them.
Her heart beat wildly.
Like the others she’d found, the 1986 bank statements were in one of the small boxes inside the plastic tub that Charlotte had used in order to ensure nothing was ruined by moisture or heat in her attic.
She pulled out the small box from the plastic tub and sat cross-legged on the floor. For a moment, she simply stared at the container in front of her. What would she discover? Perhaps something life-altering? Maybe nothing at all.
Her hands shook and she laughed at her nervousness as she opened the box to find twelve identical envelopes in chronological order. She began with January, thinking there may have been a payment to someone several months prior to her birth.
She removed the pile of checks, which were in numerical order. There were canceled checks for rent, utilities, groceries, even a check made out to a local family-owned furniture store long out of business. The notation on the check said crib.
Charlotte’s eyes teared up. Her mother had been nesting before bringing her baby home.
A single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She brushed it away and blinked several times to clear her vision. She studied the bank statement. Nothing unusual. The only deposits were identical checks that Charlotte assumed were from the accounting firm where her mother had worked. One near the beginning of the month and one right after the middle. Direct deposit wasn’t readily available in those days.
She took out the February statement. Nothing looked any different from January, except for a check with a notation of changing table, made out to the same furniture store where her mother had bought the crib.
March was the same, but there were no extra checks written for baby items. Mom must have used her credit card for the other purchases. Charlotte was sure to discover those records eventually.
Finally, April. The month of her birth. She could barely breathe. She carefully opened the envelope. This time she pulled out the bank statement first.
She immediately saw a deposit for thirty thousand dollars. “Where the heck did that come from?” she asked out loud. Her mother’s yearly salary at the time wasn’t much more than that.
Who could have given her that much money? Had she taken out a loan? Charlotte would have to dig through more paperwork from 1986 to find out.
She looked at the statement again and noticed a check for thirty thousand had been written by her mother two days after Charlotte was born.
Who had given or loaned her the money? More importantly, who had she written the check to?
Charlotte quickly pulled the checks from the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she went through each one. Finally she came to the one she was looking for. Thirty thousand dollars, but it was made out to Cash.
She quickly turned it over to see who had endorsed it. Her heart sank. As hard as she studied the signature, she couldn’t decipher the scribble. She couldn’t make out the first letter in either the first or last name. Even worse, the check had been cashed at the same bank as her mother’s account, not deposited, because there wasn’t even an account number along with the signature.
Definitely a dead end.
* * *
ALLIE SPENT NEARLY an hour on the internet, trying to find local businesses that might need assistance with their advertising. She found three prospects to contact, meeting the daily goal she’d set for herself.
Next she went on Twitter and participated in a discussion on branding. She would check later to see if she had any new followers. Other advertising professionals would be good, but finding companies or individuals who were trying to do their own advertising would be ideal. She could assist them in improving their public presence both online and anywhere else that might be beneficial to their individual goals.
Finally, she decided her newly formed company needed a blog. She figured she could find something worthwhile to say at least twice a week, so she started on her first entry. She called it “How a Brand-New Ad Agency Handles Its Own Advertising.” Her website already had a blog page ready to go, so uploading her piece would be simple.
With a draft of her blog entry set aside to review later, she turned her attention to searching for information about getting a DNA test done. Lots of ads came up with the search, but after reading some websites, she had a better understanding of the process.
She picked up the phone and called Charlotte. “Any news on your end?” she asked without preamble. “This is Allie, by the way.”
Charlotte laughed. “I know. You sound like I do when I listen to myself on my voice mail message.”
Allie grinned and paid attention while Charlotte told her about finding the deposit and the check to Cash in her mother’s files.
“That’s a good start, but it brings up a lot more questions.”
“I know. Believe