The box held forty-eight years of savings bonds, a deed to a small lakefront lot, and a letter to Mom. Dad had written that he saved quietly for a lake house he never found the nerve to buy, afraid to disappoint her if plans fell through. He wanted her to have it after he was gone. The watch was where he hid the key, because he never took it off.

Craig came up the walk slowly and broke down on the porch steps. He admitted he had spent the watch money on drinks and had been too ashamed to tell anyone. Mom did not shout. She told him the watch had been returned by a stranger’s honesty, and that he still had a chance to be worth the same. He nodded, sobbing.

Mom thanked Gus and tried to pay him. He refused. She insisted on a reward, and he accepted only a pie. Mr. Pruitt arranged the transfer of the lot and bonds within the month, and the box of savings turned out to be worth a good deal more than anyone expected.

We built a small cabin on the lake that summer. Craig worked on it every weekend, sober, and he never missed a day. Mom keeps the watch on the mantel, ticking, with Dad’s reading glasses beside it, and the empty space on the dresser is full again.