Chapter 3

The family reunion was supposed to be a celebration.

Uncle Leo and Aunt Carol' s fiftieth wedding anniversary.

A big party at their house, everyone was there.

Brenda was in her element, flitting from group to group, charming, laughing.

Too charming.

The hosts, Uncle Leo and Aunt Carol, had a designated room for gifts.

Envelopes with cash, cards, small boxes.

Aunt Carol also had her mother' s diamond pendant, an heirloom she planned to wear for the toast, sitting on her dresser in their bedroom.

Later, amidst the noise and laughter, Aunt Carol went to get the pendant.

It was gone.

Then they checked the gift envelopes. Many were lighter than they should be, some completely empty.

Panic. Whispers.

Someone suggested calling the police.

That' s when I saw Brenda' s face.

Just for a second. A flicker of pure, animal fear.

Then it was gone, replaced by her usual concerned frown.

"Oh, my dear Carol, how awful!" she' d cooed, patting Aunt Carol' s arm.

She was the one who suggested an informal search. "Before we get the authorities involved, dear. It might just be a misunderstanding, perhaps someone misplaced something."

Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a strange, tight smile.

"Sarah, honey, could you check your handbag for me? My eyesight isn't what it used to be, and I might have tucked an envelope in there by mistake thinking it was mine."

Her voice was sweet, innocent.

Reluctantly, I opened my bag.

She' d "helped" me pack it earlier, fussing over what I should bring.

And there it was.

A wad of cash. The missing diamond pendant.

Gasps. Shocked faces turned towards me.

Brenda was the first to react.

Tears streamed down her face. Real, convincing tears.

"Oh, Sarah," she wailed, her voice breaking. "How could you? Were you that desperate for money? Or jealous?"

The betrayal was a physical blow. It knocked the air from my lungs.

Mike looked stunned, confused.

George just looked away.

No one defended me.

My denials, my frantic explanations, they sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Brenda' s performance was flawless. The grieving, heartbroken mother-in-law.

My fingerprints were on the items, of course. From when Brenda had me "check my bag."

Her testimony was damning.

She painted me as a desperate, envious young woman, capable of anything.

The family, so quick to believe her, turned on me.

The whispers became accusations.

The dream of a happy family life shattered into a million pieces.

And Brenda stood there, watching it all, a mask of sorrow hiding her triumph.