Chapter 7: The Secret of the Red Tin
"Your mother didn't just steal your grandmother's recipes. She may have been collecting money that legally belonged to your aunt as well.""
Arthur Bennett's words hung in the air.
I looked at the photograph again.
My aunt Denise stood beside Grandma, smiling proudly while holding a red metal tin.
I hadn't seen Denise in almost ten years.
When I was twelve, she'd suddenly disappeared from our family gatherings. Gloria told everyone that Denise was irresponsible, jealous, and incapable of maintaining relationships.
Whenever I asked about her, Mom changed the subject.
Now I understood that there had been more to the story.
"Mr. Bennett, where is my aunt?""
Arthur closed the photograph album.
"She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. She left Atlanta after a disagreement concerning the ownership of Eleanor's recipes.""
I turned toward Gloria.
"What disagreement?""
"Don't listen to him," she snapped.
Arthur remained composed.
"Denise and Eleanor developed the original chocolate rose recipe together. They signed an agreement establishing joint ownership of the commercial rights.""
"Then why does Grandma's trust mention the recipe collection?"" I asked.
"Because Eleanor transferred her share into the trust. Denise retained hers.""
I frowned.
"So neither of them could sell the entire collection without the other?""
"Precisely.""
Gloria grabbed the photograph.
"That agreement was never valid!""
Arthur calmly retrieved it.
"It was witnessed by two independent parties and registered with the appropriate business authorities.""
Tessa looked at our mother.
"You told me Aunt Denise abandoned the family.""
Gloria's jaw tightened.
"She did.""
"Then why does she own part of Grandma's business?""
"Because she manipulated your grandmother!""
Arthur shook his head.
"Actually, Denise was the person who paid the bakery's original rent when Eleanor couldn't afford it.""
I stared at the photograph.
Grandma had never told me that story.
"Why did Aunt Denise leave?""
Arthur looked at Gloria.
"Because someone attempted to transfer her ownership rights without her consent.""
My mother suddenly snatched her purse from the floor.
"This conversation is over.""
She turned toward the exit.
But Margaret Collins stepped forward.
"Mrs. Johnson, you're welcome to leave the competition venue. However, the sponsor has requested that all documents related to the disputed recipes be preserved.""
Gloria glared at her.
"You people have no idea what you're getting yourselves into.""
Then she walked away.
Tessa remained behind.
For once, she didn't follow.
I watched my mother disappear into the crowd.
"She knows something," I whispered.
Arthur nodded.
"That's why I believe you should speak with Denise.""
He reached into his briefcase and handed me a business card.
"She's been trying to contact the family for years. I suspect she would be relieved to hear from you.""
I stared at the number.
"Why didn't she contact me directly?""
"She tried. Your mother intercepted several letters addressed to your grandmother's old home.""
My stomach tightened.
"How many?""
Arthur hesitated.
"At least seven.""
Seven letters.
Seven attempts from a woman I'd been taught to believe had abandoned us.
I took the card.
Then Margaret approached.
"Aaliyah, I know this has been overwhelming, but the judges still need to complete the competition.""
I glanced toward my flower bouquet.
It was still sitting beneath the lights.
The chocolate petals were beginning to soften slightly.
"Are we still being judged?""
"Absolutely.""
I looked toward Tessa's cake.
Her display card had been removed.
A competition official was examining the decorations and photographing each tier.
Tessa stood beside the table, crying quietly.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
Margaret touched my shoulder.
"Your flowers deserve to be evaluated on their own merits. Whatever happens with the family dispute, don't let it take this opportunity away from you.""
I nodded.
Then I returned to my station.
The remaining judges tasted the flowers.
One complimented the texture.
Another praised the balance between the chocolate and fruit fillings.
The London pastry chef asked me to explain the petal technique.
I demonstrated using a spare piece of chocolate.
He watched carefully.
"That's a very clever use of structural layering," he said.
"Thank you.""
When the judging ended, Margaret approached me again.
"Your entry is moving forward to the final evaluation.""
My heart skipped.
"Really?""
She smiled.
"Really.""
I looked down at Grandma's recipe book.
For the first time that day, I felt something other than anger.
Hope.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number appeared.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice came through.
"Aaliyah?""
"Yes?""
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered:
"My goodness. You sound just like your grandmother.""
I sat down.
"Who is this?""
"This is Denise.""
My aunt.
I gripped the phone.
"How did you get my number?""
"Arthur called me. He told me what happened at the competition.""
I swallowed.
"Are you really Grandma's business partner?""
She gave a sad laugh.
"I was more than that, sweetheart. I was the person who created the chocolate rose recipe.""
I looked at the little chocolate butterfly on my bouquet.
"Why did you leave?""
Her voice trembled.
"Because your mother stole something from me that I could never replace.""
"What?""
"My signature recipe book. And the original ownership agreement.""
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Then she said something that made my fingers go numb.
"Aaliyah, your mother didn't just take the money. She sold the same recipe to three different companies under her own name.""
