He frowned. “She was just here.”
“I’ll find her.”
I searched the backyard first. “Junie?” I called, trying to sound calm while the cheerful processional music began playing in the background.
Inside the house, I checked the kitchen, the living room, and my office.
Nothing.
The bathroom door was slightly open. Something in my chest told me the answer before I even pushed it open.
Juniper was sitting on the bathroom floor in her floral dress, hugging her knees. When she looked up at me, her expression was far too calm for a child hiding in a bathroom during her father’s wedding.
“Junie?” I knelt down beside her. “Why are you in here?”
“Maribel told me to stay here,” she said quietly.
My stomach dropped.
“She told you to sit on the bathroom floor?”
Juniper nodded once. “She said I’m not supposed to tell you.”
My pulse began racing. “Why?”
“She said I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The words made no sense at first.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
Juniper glanced nervously at the door. “She was in your office last night,” she said. “She took papers from the blue folder. I saw her.”
My throat tightened. “How many?”
“Three,” Juniper replied. “I counted.”
The blue folder contained important documents—life insurance papers, house records, and legal files I avoided because they reminded me too much of my wife’s death.
I forced my voice to stay gentle.
“You did the right thing telling me.”
Juniper’s lip trembled. “She said if I told you, you’d choose me and she’d lose.”
My heart cracked in half.
“You never keep secrets like that for adults,” I said softly. “Not for anyone.”
Juniper nodded as if committing that rule to memory.
I held out my hand. “Come with me.”
Outside, Maribel stood near the chairs greeting guests, smiling brightly. When she finally noticed me approaching, she waved.
I walked straight up to her.
“Maribel,” I said quietly, “we need to talk.”
“Grant, right now?” she asked, still smiling.
“Yes. Right now.”
I led her toward the side of the yard near the hedges.
“Why did you tell my daughter to sit in the bathroom?”
Her smile flickered. “Oh, Grant… relax.”
“Answer me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your daughter is always sticking her nose into things.”
“She’s nine,” I said. “And this is her home.”
“She watches me like I’m a criminal,” Maribel snapped. “It’s strange.”
“Juniper said you were in my office last night,” I continued. “She said you took papers from the blue folder.”