“What’s that?” she asked no one in particular.
“Don’t know,” Max said. “It was here when we got here. There’s a note from the lawyer thatwe couldn’t open it until we all were together.”
“I wonder why Carter didn’t meet with us himself,” Abby said, still eyeing the box. “I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he read the wills after the funeral.”
“Me either,” Max said.
“He was really upset at the funeral,” Izzy added.
“Well, he would be,” Max said. “He was Dad’s friend since grade school, and then his confidant and lawyer their entire adult lives.”
Garrett put his empty glass down with a thud. “I didn’t say anything before because it might have been my imagination, but did any of you notice how cagey Carter acted when we asked questions about Mom and Dad and what they did? It seemed to me like he was hiding something.”
“Now thatyou bring it up, I did notice that,” Max said. “But I thought he was just grieving like we all were and didn’t want to talk about anything personal.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Izzy said.
“I didn’t notice anything different about him. Oh, he was upset—we all were—but he seemed like the same old Carterto me,” Abby said with a shrug.
She stood up and strode over to the package. “Maybe that’s why he isn’t here now. He was obviouslykeeping whatever’s in this box from us.” She stroked the cardboard top. “Let’s see what’s in it that Carter couldn’t have shown us a year ago.”
Izzy swallowed. “Maybe it holds something special for each of us. Maybe they left a personal letter just for us.”
Garrett sniffed in disdain. “You really think they took the time to write us a love letter?”
“I didn’t mean a love letter, but yeah, something to let us know how much they cared for us.” Izzy pursed her lips and flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Why not?”
Abby put a hand up to stop their arguing. “Why don’t we justfind out?”
As she said the last words, she was already tearing at the cardboard box. She pulled out a long, black cloak. “That’s strange.”
Izzy hurried to her side and pulled out an envelope. Using her fingernail to open it and unfold a sheet of paper, she silently read it.
Abby put the cloak over the back of a chair. “Well? What does it say?”
“It’s from Mom and Dad,” Izzy said, her eyes wide with excitement. “But written in Dad’s hand. He says,If you’re reading this, it’s been twelve months since both of us or the surviving parent died. Please know we have loved you all and regret not spending more time with you as you grew into the wonderful adults we know you now are.
“Read the journals in the box and keep the artifact safe. Be careful. It is a . . .”—she paused and gaped at her brother and sisters in turn before continuing—“time device.”
Abby snatched the letter from her. She quickly scanned the words and discovered that was exactly what her father had written. She snorted. “Dad does say that.”
“Ooh, a mystery,” Izzy said, looking around as if she thought Indiana Jones would barge in at any moment.
Garrett had joined them at the end of the table and plucked a white orb from the box. It was clean and new looking, with gold filigree leaves circling the middle.
“Time devicemust be some sort of code name for this,” he said, turning the orb in his hands. He waved it about and made ghostly noises. “It’s probably a portal to the dark side. We’d better be careful, or we’ll have poltergeists swarming all over the house.”
Max laughed.
Abby chuckled. “I doubt we’re in any danger. They wouldn’t do that to us.” She gazed at the orb and shivered. “Would they?”
Chapter 2
Abby trailed her hands down her face, trying to rid herself of the feeling of dread that had firmly planted itself in her chest.
Max glanced at Abby and raised a dark eyebrow at Garrett. “Stop trying to spook us. It’s probably just another four-thousand-year-old vase.”
Abby shushed her and gave the letter to Garrett, saying, “They say they hope the piece will bring fulfillment to our lives.”
