Mrs. Rhode’s lawyer stood outside holding a dented metal lunchbox.
Rain dripped from his umbrella.
“What do you want?” I asked flatly.
His expression looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Rhode left additional instructions.”
He held out the lunchbox.
“For you alone.”
I stared at it for a second before taking it slowly.
Inside sat a plain envelope with my name written across it in Mrs. Rhode’s shaky handwriting.
And beneath it:
A small metal key.
My hands started trembling before I even unfolded the letter.
James,
You’re probably angry right now. I imagine you think I lied to you.
I didn’t.
What I’m leaving you matters more than a house.
