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" I had a nice weekend at home, spending most of the time lying on the couch, doing some paperwork, organizing things for the baby. Sam came over on Saturday night for a little while, and we cooked pasta and watched television. I fell asleep early, though, and he let himself out.  This morning, Sam called to check in, just as Jackson and I were putting together the baby crib.  &amp;quot;I need to call you back,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;We are mid-construction.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Cool. I&amp;#039;m glad to come over after work to fix whatever you guys break,&amp;quot; he joked.  &amp;quot;Not nice,&amp;quot; I joked back. &amp;quot;Bye.&amp;quot;  Then, just as I was hanging up, the phone rang again. &amp;quot;I said I&amp;#039;d call you back,&amp;quot; I laughed.  &amp;quot;Elizabeth Jackson? Is that you, Liz?&amp;quot; The voice was a woman&amp;#039;s, light and upbeat, but one I didn&amp;#039;t recognize.  &amp;quot;Yes. Who is this?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Cindy.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Cindy?&amp;quot; I was confused.  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m a friend,&amp;quot; she said. &amp;quot;A very good friend. An old friend. Of your brother Jeb&amp;#039;s. Do you not remember me?&amp;quot;  I racked my brain, trying to conjure up an image. &amp;quot;Oh gosh, I&amp;#039;m sorry. I don&amp;#039;t.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Oh, well, hopefully he will.&amp;quot;  She laughed. So did I.  &amp;quot;Is he there by chance?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;No,&amp;quot; I said.  &amp;quot;Do you know where I could find him? I need to find him. What I&amp;#039;m saying is that we&amp;#039;ve fallen out of touch and I wanted to say hi, you know?&amp;quot;  Something about the way she asked the question \u2014 something I couldn&amp;#039;t put my finger on \u2014 made my throat close up.   &amp;quot;Well, if you leave a message with me, I&amp;#039;ll be sure to pass it along.&amp;quot;  This was when her voice changed. &amp;quot;Well, the thing is that I think he had some boxes sent to you, boxes that belonged to me.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Um\u2026&amp;quot; I looked down at Jackson on the floor, who was looking up at me, wondering from my voice what was happening. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t think so.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Did he send boxes to you or not?&amp;quot;  Her voice was getting less friendly by the second.  And I couldn&amp;#039;t help but remember that, as far as I knew, Jeb&amp;#039;s boxes hadn&amp;#039;t arrived yet.  &amp;quot;You know, we&amp;#039;ve received no boxes here, and I am going to have to go. I haven&amp;#039;t heard from my brother in over a week, but next time I do, I will let him know you want to reach him, Cindy.&amp;quot;  I hung up, but not before I heard her call me a nasty word.  I picked up the phone again and called Jeb, but there was no answer. I left a voice message for him to call me back immediately.  Jackson looked up at me. &amp;quot;Is something wrong?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t know,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Hey, you didn&amp;#039;t sign for any boxes did you? At any point his week?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Yeah, a few days ago. I told you the other day on the phone.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I didn&amp;#039;t hear you.&amp;quot; I paused. &amp;quot;Where are they?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;In the hall closet.&amp;quot;  I headed out there, reluctantly, opening the closet door to see three wine-carton-size boxes. Jeb&amp;#039;s name on the return address. I took out a scissors and opened all three. The contents were the same in each box: several unmarked CD cases. And I almost felt bad that some girl \u2014 probably a bitter ex-girlfriend \u2014 had made me doubt my brother and his project.  Only just then, as I started to turn away, I clumsily knocked over one of the boxes, and the CD cases spilled out.  As they did, I saw that there wasn&amp;#039;t just CD cases in the boxes but something else entirely: wads and wads of hundred-dollar bills.  &amp;quot;Oh my goodness,&amp;quot; I said.  And, then, as if Jeb was standing there, as if he could hear me: &amp;quot;Jeb,&amp;quot; I asked. &amp;quot;What have you done?&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/a4157/diary-e-101208/>