“Marcus has been robbing the estate for over ten years,” I said.

“It’s more complicated than that, Clara,” she said, stepping closer.

“Is it?” I asked. “The numbers are right here in Grandmother’s handwriting.”

“Your grandmother loved Marcus,” Caroline said, her voice cracking. “She didn’t want him destroyed.”

“So she let him ruin us instead?” I asked.

Caroline shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

“She tried to manage it,” Caroline said. “She kept the ledger to hold over him, to keep him from selling everything.”

“But it didn’t work,” I said. “Now he’s trying to sell the ridge to Wexler Stone.”

Caroline reached out a hand, her fingers shaking.

“Give me the book, Clara,” she pleaded. “If Marcus finds out you have it, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“I’m not giving it to anyone,” I said.

I slipped the book into my canvas bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.

“The key,” Caroline said, her eyes shifting to my hand. “The brass key your grandmother gave you.”

“It didn’t fit the lockbox,” I said, gesturing to the broken metal box on the desk.