She winked, her right eye crinkling with the same old sharp humor despite the IV line taped to her wrist.

“Box four-twelve.

Get down there before the vault counter closes at two.”

“What’s in it, Margaret?”

“Something Kade locked away when Arthur started asking questions about church land deeds,” she said.

“Now put it in your jacket pocket before the head nurse comes back.”

“Did Kade leave you the key?” I asked.

“He tucked it in my sewing basket four years ago, three weeks before he died,” she said.