Ten minutes before five, I walked back down the basement stairs of First National Bank.

The heavy vault door stood wide open, its steel locking bolts gleaming under the spotlights.

Arthur stood waiting beside box thirty-two, his brass master key in his left hand.

“We’re closing the vault for the weekend in five minutes, Mrs.

Reed,” Arthur said, his voice slow and calm.

“I just need to add this envelope to the box,” I said.

I slid the heavy manila envelope holding my grandmother’s down payment checks into the steel tray, right next to the plastic sleeve with the seventy-three-million-dollar ticket.