The library was cool and smelled of old leather and polished wood.

I walked over to my father’s heavy mahogany chest in the corner beneath his portrait.

I lifted the thick wooden lid and slid the official certificate of sole trust ownership onto the top shelf.

It lay neatly beside my mother’s pearl brooch in its velvet box and my father’s silver pocket watch.

I closed the heavy lid, slid the brass key into the lock, and turned it until the mechanism clicked shut.

By six in the evening, the sun had sunk behind the dark pine ridge above the valley.