“—the tables, and I saw a lady with lots of spiders under her dress. They were crawling all over!” he insisted, his small hands gesturing dramatically as if to mimic the eight-legged creatures. I tried to stifle a smile at his vivid imagination, assuming it was simply a child’s fantasy born of anxiety and confusion in a somber setting.

“Ben, there aren’t any spiders here,” I assured him, brushing a stray curl off his forehead. “You’ve probably just imagined them.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No, Mommy! They were real!”

Before I could delve further into what he thought he saw, Arthur joined us, curiosity piqued. “What’s going on?” he asked, sensing the seriousness in Ben’s demeanor.

“Ben thinks he saw spiders,” I explained, trying to keep my voice light-hearted.

Arthur chuckled, ruffling Ben’s hair. “Probably just crumbs or dust bunnies. This place is old, after all.”

But Ben remained insistent, and his persistence made me pause. Kids have a way of noticing things that adults overlook. I decided to humor him and asked, “Can you show us where you saw the lady?”

Ben nodded eagerly, slipping off my lap and taking my hand. We navigated through the room, dodging servers and guests as we approached the table he had pointed at. He ducked under the cloth once more, beckoning us to follow.

Arthur and I exchanged a glance but obliged, crouching down beside him. I lifted the tablecloth cautiously, half-expecting to find nothing but dust or shadows. Instead, something peculiar caught my eye.

A small, inconspicuous briefcase lay just out of sight, its leather surface well-worn and scratched. It looked completely out of place at a funeral reception, tucked away like a forgotten relic.

“Is this what you saw, Ben?” I asked, my mind racing with curiosity.

He shook his head, his expression confused. “No, it was a lady with spiders! But that wasn’t there before.”

Arthur reached for the briefcase, pulling it into the open. It was locked, the clasp stiff and unyielding. “What’s this doing here?” he wondered aloud, glancing at me.

Unease prickled the back of my neck. The briefcase had an aura of secrecy, the kind that speaks of hidden stories and untold truths. We decided to take it home, intending to investigate further.

Once we were alone, with Ben tucked safely into bed, Arthur and I examined the briefcase. It took some effort, but we managed to open it using a paperclip. Inside, we discovered a trove of documents, each page a piece of a puzzle we hadn’t known existed: secret business dealings, offshore accounts, and evidence of a life far more complex than Arthur’s father had ever let on.

As the weight of what we’d uncovered sank in, Arthur and I realized that Ben’s innocent exploration had inadvertently exposed a buried layer of family history. The gravity of it all was overwhelming, but there was also a strange sense of relief. The briefcase, much like Ben’s imagination, had turned our world upside down, forcing us to confront the legacy left behind.

As Arthur and I sat in silence, the air heavy with revelations and possibilities, I couldn’t help but wonder about the lady Ben claimed to have seen. Whether she was a figment of his imagination or something more, her presence had led us to the truth—a truth that would shape our lives in ways we had yet to understand.