The Black Button in Hannah’s Hand Changed What I Came Home To

“She said the person trying to control the business would not necessarily be the person holding the title.”

I stared at the coffee.

“That sounds like Hannah.”

Caroline nodded.

“She liked plain words.”

I smiled despite myself.

“She once returned a restaurant bill because the total was crooked.”

“She straightened receipts, too.”

“She straightened my grocery lists.”

“Then she probably left you a straight line.”

I looked at her.

Caroline did not explain.

I almost asked her what that meant, but she had already gathered the papers.

“Come with me tonight,” I said.

“Where?”

“Father’s study.”

She nodded.

The old house was quiet when I entered the study that evening. I did not turn on the ceiling light.

I switched on the green desk lamp.

Its light fell across the desk, the brass key tray, and the safe built into the wall.

I put Hannah’s photocopy beside the lamp.

Then I opened the safe.

There were old deeds, tax papers, two canceled checks, and a legal courier envelope that had cost 18 dollars.

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