Samuel leaned down and brushed a finger along the long, black metal bar—the body of a giant key. It left a clear path through the carpet of dust. He smirked and drew a smiley face.
"It's twice the size of me," Kate murmured as she circled the key, nearly tripping over attic boxes and other forgotten junk in the process.
He looked her up and down. "Twice? I'd say maybe three times."
Kate stuck out her tongue then directed her gaze back to the key. "Why does Gramps even have this?"
"Maybe he won it in a competition?"
"For fishing?"
"He might've done something else!"
Kate gave him a look.
"Well then maybe it's just a family heirloom." Samuel drew another smiley face in the dust.
"Whatever. Should we bring it downstairs?"
"Yeah." Samuel's grin faded. "Grams said she wanted everything in the attic brought down for Gramps' viewing."
"Right."
Taking opposite ends, they hefted up the key and slowly inched their way down the attic stairs. Samuel's dust-coated fingers began to slip and he hastily repositioned a hand, teeth gritted. If Gramps had won this for a competition, it must've been really important for him to have kept this overweight hunk of metal.
As they stepped off the stairs and began to shuffle down the hallway, Grams' voice sounded from around the corner.
"Yes, I knew him well! He's my—No. No. Yes! Maryanne. Yes, Daniel. Mm hm. That's his name. He's my husband. I don't—and why not? I was told the body was recovered. I want to—no. Yes. No but—He's my husband! Why not? The viewing is tomorrow. I was told—okay. Okay. Mm hmm. Are you serious?! I..."
Samuel and Kate entered the drawing room and sat the key down next to a mounting stack of boxes and sympathy cards.
Grams looked away from her phone to give them a quick smile, the wrinkled lines around her eyes deepening for a moment. Then her ice blue eyes—identical to Kate's—flashed and she snapped at the unfortunate speaker on the phone, "No! I will not calm down and I WILL be suing you!"
She slammed the phone down and closed her eyes, fingers rubbing her temples.
"You alright, Grams?" Kate asked.
Grams sighed. "They won't let us have his body for the viewing." She pushed aside a box of fishing hats to the far end of her floral-print couch and sank onto the cushions. "Sounds like the mortician messed up and he's not...presentable."
"Seriously?" Samuel's fingers curled into fists.
"I'm sorry." Kate moved the fishing hat box onto the floor and sat next to Grams.
Grams smiled faintly and rubbed Kate's back. She glanced over at Samuel and then down at the giant key. Her brow furrowed. "What is that?"
Samuel shrugged, rubbing his sore arms. "I dunno. We thought maybe Gramps won it as a prize for something?"
"You mean you thought that," Kate retorted.
Grams stood and walked over to the key. "I've never seen it before. Then again, I never went up to his 'storage room.'"
Samuel brushed off more dust, wondering for a moment if there were writing or designs printed into the metal that could help shed light on the matter. Nothing stuck out to him though.
Grams lightly touched the tip of the key. "It looks like my proposal key."
Kate cocked her head. "Proposal key?"
"Yes. Gramps gave me a key that opened a ring box. It's how he proposed to me."
"Aw, that's so romantic!" Kate exclaimed with a wistful sigh. Samuel rolled his eyes.
Grams studied the key. "This is much too big to open anything. But I wonder . . ."
She began moving her wrinkled hands over the central bar, feeling all around it and gathering a layer of dust on her skin. Samuel felt around some more on his side, paying more attention to the consistent smoothness. His fingers rose and fell over a slight bump.
"Grams! I found something."
The old woman moved around to his side of the key and used the hem of her shirt to wipe at the lump Samuel was pointing to. The dust cleared away to reveal a button. Grams pushed it and a little door creaked open on the tip where a key would normally enter the lock first. Kate gasped and rushed over to the door. She reached into the key and pulled out a wad of paper.
"They're all envelopes." She handed the pile to Grams and began digging out more.
Grams set down the pile and opened one of the envelopes. Samuel watched as Grams' eyes scanned back and forth across one of the letters. Their blue color blurred.
"What does it say?" he asked.
Kate stopped pulling out envelopes to glance expectantly at Grams.
The old woman rubbed her eyes, a soft smile melting on her lips. "It's a love letter," she whispered. "He wrote me a thousand love letters as a gift for when he died."
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