“No one ever told you to keep your hands to yourself?”
“Maybe.” He laughed. “But I don’t think I listened.”
And I could tell how, with his charming laugh and beautiful smile, people would let Tyler Nelson get away with whatever he wanted.
We reached the third floor, a smaller level with lower ceilings. The littles and middles—all the cousins twelve or under—slept in one giant room up here tucked beneath the eaves. Near thecenter of the house, I paused and pointed at a trapdoor in the ceiling. A thin string hung down. “I present: the attic.”
Tyler squinted upward. “How do we get in?”
I squinted, too. “Usually there’s a ladder.” Bending my knees, I jumped and caught the string, pulling the door open and the attached ladder down.
“Ladies first,” Tyler said. I hesitated, imagining him staring at my butt as I climbed up, and then I decided—whatever. I had a damn good butt.
The attic was a low, crowded space with slanted ceilings. Up here, the wind sounded even louder, knocking against walls that had little insulation. The cold, too, seeped inward. In the dark, I could clearly see out the windows on either side of the low, triangular space. Snow fell steadily in the blue light of the sunken sun.
Tyler followed my gaze. “It’s beautiful.”
I only nodded, not ready to share a moment admiring nature with this boy, and pulled on yet another string. A single light bulb lit up, casting stark shadows across the long room. “Let’s see if we can find the decorations.”
We circled the attic, peering at endless boxes: white mailboxes and brown cardboard boxes, clear plastic boxes and the occasional wooden trunk. Abandoned furniture was interspersed with the storage: a rocking chair and horse, a few old lamps, a mirror.
“How long has your family lived here?”
“Since the 1800s,” I said, and when he glanced at me, I smiled. “Guess we’ve had a long time to accumulate stuff.”
He suddenly crashed to the floor, a startled look on his face. “Ow!”
I skirted around a large stack of boxes between us. “Are you okay? What happened?” Had my smile beensosurprising he’d fallen flat on his face? Wow, I really needed to work on being friendlier.
He pushed himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his ankle. “I’m fine. I just tripped on...” His voice faded, gaze hooked on the floor where he’d been standing. A board of wood had been tugged away from the others.
Oh no. We broke the floor. “That’s what you tripped on? Eesh.”
“You think it’s on purpose?”
“I—what? Do I think the floorboard tripped you on purpose?”
He laughed. “If it’slooseon purpose. If it’s been pried up before.”
My interest was instantly piqued. “Like a hidey-hole?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He scooted over, and I sat with my knees tucked beneath me so we could both peer in. Then I paused. “What if there’s mice?”
“You’re bigger than them.”
“But not half as scary.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s look.”
We peered into the darkness. And there, nestled within the small, dusty space, lay a box.
No bigger than a shoebox, with the elegance of a jewelry chest.It had a curved top of dark, polished wood and intricate carvings on the sides. I lifted it out of the depression and set it on the floor. “Look at this,” I breathed, tugging at the top. It failed to open. “Hidden treasures!”
“It looks old.” He studied it. “I wonder how long it’s been there.”
“Is there a key?” I shone my phone’s flashlight into the corners of the hole but only came up with dust.
“I’m sure we can figure out how to open it. Let’s take it downstairs.”
