she kept insurance cards and receipts.
Nothing explained the key.
I checked the guest-room dresser and the jewelry box she had brought with her.
Nothing.
I stood in the middle of the room and remembered the certainty in her eyes.
Gertrude had hidden that key inside her clothing during her final hours.
She had kept it close while nurses moved around her.
She had used the last of her strength to place it in my hand.
Not Christopher’s.
Mine.
By the time he finally called, I had already printed the
