“He told me his daughter might show up one day looking like the world had turned on her,” Hank said. “Told me to remind you that the most valuable treasures are often hidden in unexpected places.”

My throat tightened at those words. “He really said that to you?”

“Clear as day,” Hank replied. “Oh, and he also said you should check under the kitchen floorboard whenever you felt ready.”

He tipped his cap to me and started down the steps before I could ask him anything else. I shut the door and stood there in the silence with the warm stew in my hands.

My father had known exactly what was going to happen. He’d prepared for this moment, and now I was holding his final message like a coded mission brief.

I set the stew on the counter and dropped to my knees by the kitchen table. The floorboards were old pine, scuffed from years of use.