He set it on the kitchen table.
“He wanted you to open this only after he was gone.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
Frank didn’t smile.
“What, did he save every dollar of rent I paid him?”
Frank didn’t smile.
“I wouldn’t make any guesses until you see what’s inside.”
I tore through the tape and lifted the flaps.
At first, I thought he’d brought the wrong box.
I tore through the tape.
Inside was an old leather vest covered in band patches, backstage passes, guitar picks, and photographs of Dad performing onstage.
Then I found a picture of Mom.
She was standing beside Dad, smiling up at him as he played his guitar. He was smiling back, looking happier than I’d seen him in fourteen years.
I remembered those evenings in our living room, before everything changed.
A key lay beneath the vest.
