Outside, the first drops of rain began to tap against the glass window.

The wind was picking up, rattling the loose pane in the corner of the study.

Nathan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, tarnished brass key.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s the key to my father’s old safe in the basement,” he said. “The one Eleanor never opened.”

He stood up, his face set in a hard line.

“Stay here with the children,” he said.

“I’m coming with you,” I said.

He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.

We walked down the narrow wooden stairs to the basement, the air growing colder and smelling of damp stone with every step.

The safe was tucked behind an old iron boiler in the back corner of the cellar.

Nathan inserted the key into the lock and turned it.

The heavy iron door groaned as it swung open, revealing stacks of old paper tied with faded blue ribbon.

Nathan reached in and pulled out the first bundle.

He untied the ribbon, the silk crumbling in his fingers.