“Then hand me the title and the difference, and I’ll write you a receipt you can keep in your pocket.”

I signed the retainer on the tailgate, wrote out the check, and pulled the title from the glove box.

Nineteen years of registration slips came out along with it, and one of them had Grandma’s handwriting on the back.

Then the key ring.

The truck key, the house key, and on the same wire loop, the little brass key she had given me the summer I turned nine.

I worked the brass key off first and slipped it into my coat pocket, then handed her the rest.