I checked the floor of the cedar chest one more time, lifting the yellow paper to see if any other papers were hidden beneath it.

There was nothing under there but bare oak boards and two more gray lavender sacks.

The brass clock on the hall wall struck four with a flat metallic chime that rang through the silent house.

I picked up the green shirt box, held it against my chest and carried it out of the bedroom into the bright kitchen, where the late afternoon sun lay across the linoleum table.

I put the shirt box down on the Formica table right next to my glass of cold sweet tea.