She plastered a hand over her pounding heart. “Oh! Thank you for catching that.”
He adjusted his grip on the book, a frown forming between his brows.
She stepped forward. “What happened? The binding didn’t loosen, did it? It’s old.Reallyold.”
“That’s not it.” He ran his finger down the spine. “Feels like something’s in the spine.”
Heart squeezing, she reached for the book. She wasn’t wearing gloves, but there wasn’t time to find them.
He gently placed the book in her hands. The old leather cover looked the same. But when she touched the spine, she felt it too—an unnatural thickness.
Her gaze shot to his. “What is it?”
His lips tightened, and he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She stared at the ridge beneath the leather, tracing the outline with her thumb. “Henry, what did you do?” she whispered.
She pressed the base, and the thickness slid upward. She let out a gasp as a small, metal object dropped straight into her open palm.
A key.
Her breath left her in a rush.
It laid on her skin, gold, with three engraved numbers at the top.
“Is that—” Her voice came out thin.
“Safe-deposit box key.” He leaned in, eyes narrowed.
Her heart thumped. “Okay. Say you’re right. How do I know what bank it belongs to?”
He jerked his gaze to hers. “Give me the letter.”
She blinked. “Henry’s letter?”
“Yes.”
She rushed to find it, tucked into the pocket of the bag she brought with her to stay on the ranch. Her hands trembled as she pulled out the folded letter and smoothed it out.
Gabe accepted it and moved to the sofa. “Do you have a notebook? Pen?”
She snapped out of her daze. “Of course.” She rummaged in her handbag and grabbed both items she carried with her everywhere in case some idea struck. She set these on the sofa next to Gabe, but he was already reading. Studying the words.
She watched his lips move slightly as his eyes tracked the lines. Then he flipped open the book cover and carefully thumbed to a page. His focus absolute.
She knew the note by heart, she’d already read it so many times.
Dearest Felicity,
Ever since my health began to fail, I’ve been making my peace with things.
None of the doctors can tell me why I’m declining, but I’ve stopped searching for answers.
Very early on I knew the Wollstonecraft was yours as much as mine.
Even now, as I write this, I want to be sure your dream stays alive.
Remember that you were always the heart of this place.
