She eyes us and the suitcase. She looks from me to Noah. Her eyebrows bunch together in a frown.

My stomach clenches up. Noah’s black. I’m white. How could we have the same grandma?

“We gotta get home,” Noah says, “or Mom’s going to be super worried.”

The woman sits up a little straighter and opens her mouth.

Before she can say anything, I grab Noah’s hand and dash for the door.

“Thanks for your help,” I call as we bang out the door, the suitcase bu-bumping behind.

We walk as fast as we can to the train station.

We find the platform for the train we’ll take back and plop down on a bench.

“Whew!” I say. “I tell you what, that was close!”

Noah nods, panting. “Too close for me.”

We look at each other. Noah nods. Slowly, I unzip the suitcase.

No bundles of dollar bills. No underwear (well, maybe a little), and no clues as far as I can see. What I do see are a few sweaters, a pair of nice leather shoes, a scarf smooth as water, and a couple of ziplock baggies. One has medicine bottles in it, the other has photographs. Maybe the photos will help.

I rummage around the corners and bottom to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

“What’s that?” Noah says, pointing at a small, thin paper bag. I pull it out. It has something in it.

Postcards. I flip through them—there must be about seven. I study each one, then hand them to Noah.

“They’re all from different places,” he says. One has a picture of a big, gleaming arch. It says “Greetings from Missouri!” Another has a picture of row after row of cornfields. Corncobs spell out “Iowa!”

One with a picture of beautiful smoky blue mountains catches my eye. “North Carolina Is Calling,” it says. I flip it over. On the back Jewel has written, “I know you’d love these mountains, Sis. They remind me of home.”

“Sis!”

I look at the backs of each of the postcards. All are written to Sis. All are addressed to the same place: Heartwell Manor, Room 23-B. All of them have stamps. And none were ever mailed.

“These are all addressed to Sis,” I say. “And they all have the same address.”

“Do you think that’s where Jewel was going?” Noah asks.

“If Sis is her sister, I bet you anything that’s where she and Baby were going. To family.” A chill runs up and down my arms.

I grin. “We may not have found a million dollars, but I think we struck gold, finding Jewel’s sister!”

Noah grins back. “I think you’re right.”

We slap two high fives. “I cannot believe we’ve found her sister!” I crow. “This will fix everything!”