Daniel’s key slid into the lock and refused to turn. He tried again, harder, while Lauren stood behind him with the luggage and the children. Then a stranger opened the door. “Can I help you?” the man asked politely. Daniel stared past him at the unfamiliar furniture and a stranger’s coat on the hook. “This is my family home,” he said, his voice cracking.

The man handed him a cream envelope. “Your mother left this for you.” Daniel tore it open, and Lauren read over his shoulder. Inside were a copy of the deed, the closing statement, and a note in my handwriting. Lauren went pale at the final line. “Daniel,” she whispered, “she says she left something for the children in a place we would never think to look.”