The sign above the door read *Citizens Trust Bank*.

It was the same bank my mother had walked me to when I was a little girl.

“Are you sure she kept a box here?” Nathan asked, turning off the engine.

“She had a key,” I said. “She kept it hidden in her old sewing basket.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out a small, tarnished brass key.

I had kept it with me for over ten years, never knowing what it opened.

“Let’s go inside,” Nathan said.

The heavy glass door creaked as we pushed it open.

A small brass bell chimed above our heads.

The lobby was empty except for an elderly teller sitting behind a tall wooden counter.

She looked up, her glasses slipping down her nose.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice slow and friendly.

“I need to access a safety deposit box,” I said, walking to the counter.

“Do you have the key and the name on the account?” she asked.

“The name is Sarah Carter,” I said.

The teller paused, looking at me closely.