I turned my brass key to the right until the tumblers inside dropped into place with a heavy metal click.

The steel box glided out of its sleeve in the wall and settled on the narrow metal viewing shelf below the row.

I lifted the hinged lid.

The box held nothing but Harold’s old gold wristwatch and a folded manila envelope with our 1984 Tucson home purchase deed inside.

I took the validated Powerball ticket out of my wallet, unfolded the thin slip once, and laid it flat on top of the old deed.

The black printed numbers looked plain and ordinary against the yellowed paper of the deed to our first house.