Ms. Monroe finally looked up, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Eleanor, my handbag contains personal items. I prefer to keep it with me.”
“Of course, of course, I only meant…” Eleanor reached toward the handle with a strained little laugh.
“Mom,” Mike said flatly, “sit down. And stop touching other people’s things.”
Eleanor sat, but her eyes kept jumping from the bag to the doorway and back again. From the kitchen, Regina watched through the narrow opening and saw her mother-in-law shifting in her chair every time Ms. Monroe moved.
“Elvira, what a lovely handbag,” Eleanor tried again, changing tactics. “Beautiful leather. I saw one just like it at the mall downtown for maybe $200. Practically identical.”
Ms. Monroe turned her head very slowly. Silence filled the room. Mike closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Without a word, Ms. Monroe lifted the bag onto her lap and snapped the clasp shut with a crisp click.
From the kitchen came the sharp clatter of a spoon hitting the sink. Regina had dropped it because she was trying not to laugh.
“Agnes,” she whispered, fighting for breath, “I may not survive this.”
“Don’t you dare pass out now,” Agnes muttered, biting back a smile of her own. “This is just getting good.”
And it did.
A minute later, Eleanor, whose forehead was now damp and whose napkin had been twisted into a rope, pushed herself halfway up from her chair.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said. “I need some air…”
She took one step toward the sofa, lost her footing, and came down hard against the coffee table. The porcelain teapot tipped, shattered on the floor, and hot chamomile spilled across the rug. Ms. Monroe’s handbag slid from her lap, hit the hardwood with a dull thud, and the clasp—so firmly shut a moment ago—sprang open.
Everything spilled out onto the rug: wallet, compact, lipstick, business card case—and the thick envelope. It landed with a soft slap, burst open, and stacks of hundred-dollar bills fanned across the floor right at Ms. Monroe’s feet.
The room went dead silent.
From the doorway came a crash. Agnes, who had been watching from around the corner, dropped a tray of clean cups. They shattered in a second wave of noise, and she put both hands to her cheeks.
