Mom read the first line aloud, her voice barely a whisper. “Dearest Ruth, if you are reading this, the watch has outlived me, and I have kept a secret too long.” She pressed the paper to her chest. Mr. Pruitt cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hendricks, your husband left this note with my firm in 1984, along with instructions to be opened only if the watch ever came apart.” I stared at him, confused. Mom’s hands trembled so hard the page rattled.

Mr. Pruitt drew a sealed envelope from his briefcase. “The note refers to a safe deposit box,” he said. “Walter opened it the week he bought that watch, and he added to it every year.” Gus wiped his eyes with a rag. Then, from the driveway, I heard a car door slam. Craig stood at the gate, pale and unsteady, staring at the velvet box in our mother’s hands.