It was not a height mark. It was a tiny star. Opal stared at it. Her face lost color. \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked. She didn\u2019t answer. \u201cOpal?\u201d \u201cThat wasn\u2019t there before.\u201d Nate touched the carving. \u201cIt looks old.\u201d \u201cIt is old.\u201d \u201cYou just said\u2014\u201d \u201cI said it wasn\u2019t there when I lived here.\u201d Nate looked at her. \u201cHow can you tell?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Walter used that mark.\u201d \u201cWhat for?\u201d \u201cTo identify places he had hidden something.\u201d Nobody spoke. Then Nate knocked against the trim. Solid. He knocked again. Still solid. He went to the truck for a pry bar. Opal protested. \u201cIf you break that molding, I\u2019ll haunt you before I\u2019m dead.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll be careful.\u201d He slid the bar gently behind the wood. One nail squealed. Then another. The strip of molding separated from the wall.<\/p>\n
Behind it was plaster. Nothing else. Nate stared. \u201cMaybe the star meant something nearby.\u201d Opal nodded slowly. \u201cPossibly.\u201d He ran his hand along the exposed wall. Then stopped. \u201cWhat?\u201d I stepped closer. \u201cWhat did you feel?\u201d \u201cThis section.\u201d He tapped the wall. Thump. Then six inches lower. Thump. Then to the right. A hollow knock. All three of us looked at each other. Nate found a utility knife. He cut a narrow rectangle through the brittle plaster. Inside the wall cavity was an old metal box. Not large. Maybe twelve inches long. Six inches high.<\/p>\n
It had rusted around the edges.<\/p>\n
Nate pulled it free.<\/p>\n
Dust spilled across the floor.<\/p>\n
Opal gripped my wrist.<\/p>\n
I could feel her hand trembling.<\/p>\n
Nate placed the box on the kitchen table.<\/p>\n
There was no lock.<\/p>\n
Only a clasp.<\/p>\n
He opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside were papers.<\/p>\n
Not money.<\/p>\n
Documents.<\/p>\n
Letters.<\/p>\n
A black-and-white photograph.<\/p>\n
And a small key taped to the underside of the lid.<\/p>\n
Nate reached for the photograph first.<\/p>\n
It showed four people standing on the porch of the Miller house.<\/p>\n
Opal was young.<\/p>\n
Perhaps twenty.<\/p>\n
Beside her stood a teenage boy who had to be Walter.<\/p>\n
Their parents stood behind them.<\/p>\n
Harold Miller was tall, narrow-faced, wearing work trousers and a white shirt.<\/p>\n
Ruth Miller had one hand resting on Opal\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n
On the back someone had written:<\/p>\n
August 1952.<\/p>\n
Opal sat down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t seen this picture in sixty years.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate handed it to her.<\/p>\n
Then he picked up the first letter.<\/p>\n
The paper was thin and yellow.<\/p>\n
The handwriting slanted sharply across the page.<\/p>\n
He read the date.<\/p>\n
\u201cNovember 3, 1981.\u201d<\/p>\n
One year before Ron used the house as collateral.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho wrote it?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Nate looked at the signature.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cRead it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRead it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate unfolded the page.<\/p>\n
The letter was addressed to Ronald.<\/p>\n
Not Opal.<\/p>\n
Ronald.<\/p>\n
Nate began.<\/p>\n
\u201cRon. I know what you found.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n
Opal opened her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cKeep going.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know what you found, and I know you think it belongs to you because your mother owns the property now. It doesn\u2019t. Half belongs to me, whether she admits it or not.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate looked at Opal.<\/p>\n
She said nothing.<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can keep avoiding me, but I will come to the dealership if I have to. I know Daddy\u2019s hiding places better than you ever will. What you found is only part of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
My skin prickled.<\/p>\n
Nate read the final lines.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you want the rest, bring my share to the old grain elevator Friday at midnight. Come alone. If Opal finds out what you did, she\u2019ll never forgive you.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no amount written.<\/p>\n
No explanation of what Ron had found.<\/p>\n
Only Walter\u2019s signature.<\/p>\n
Nate picked up the second letter.<\/p>\n
Same handwriting.<\/p>\n
Two weeks later.<\/p>\n
\u201cRon. Last warning.\u201d<\/p>\n
He read silently for several seconds.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He looked disturbed.<\/p>\n
\u201cRead it,\u201d Opal said.<\/p>\n
Nate did.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think because I missed our meeting that you won. You\u2019re wrong. I know where the ledger is. If anything happens to me, it goes to your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ledger.<\/p>\n
The word hung in the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat ledger?\u201d Nate asked.<\/p>\n
Opal shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy kept records. Names, dates, amounts. You found the cash but not the reason he had it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stopped again.<\/p>\n
His eyes met mine.<\/p>\n
Cash.<\/p>\n
Ron had found cash.<\/p>\n
Apparently enough that Walter demanded a share.<\/p>\n
Nate returned to the letter.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were always greedy, Ron. Even as a boy. You smile while you take. Samuel sees it. Opal refuses to.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal flinched.<\/p>\n
Nate lowered the paper.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t need to read that part.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, you do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRead it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He obeyed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe money was never meant for you. If you spend it, someday someone will ask where it came from. When they do, you\u2019d better hope I\u2019m dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
The letter ended there.<\/p>\n
Nate placed it on the table.<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then I noticed something.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe dates.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe first letter was November 3. The second was two weeks later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd Ron borrowed against the house in 1982.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned to Opal.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould the business loan have been an explanation?\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor suddenly having money.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate understood.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe finds cash in 1981.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen in 1982 he starts a business using a legitimate bank loan.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal\u2019s face changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think he used the business to explain wealth he already had.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate leaned back.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a hell of an accusation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pointed at Walter\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut Walter says he found cash.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal whispered, \u201cAnd I never knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate picked up the next document.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t a letter.<\/p>\n
It was a photocopy of a check.<\/p>\n
Payable to Ronald.<\/p>\n
$18,000.<\/p>\n
Dated December 1981.<\/p>\n
Signed Walter Miller.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat makes no sense,\u201d Nate said.<\/p>\n
Opal took the copy.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter wrote Ronald a check?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cApparently.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe never had eighteen thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe by then he did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate examined the memo line.<\/p>\n
It said:<\/p>\n
FULL SETTLEMENT.<\/p>\n
Nothing more.<\/p>\n
The next page was a bank deposit receipt.<\/p>\n
Ronald had deposited the check three days later.<\/p>\n
The next item was another photograph.<\/p>\n
This one showed Ron much younger, standing beside Walter near what appeared to be a grain elevator.<\/p>\n
Ron was holding something in his left hand.<\/p>\n
A leather folder.<\/p>\n
On the back:<\/p>\n
12\/18\/81.<\/p>\n
Opal whispered, \u201cWho took this?\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no answer.<\/p>\n
The next piece of paper was the strangest.<\/p>\n
A page torn from a notebook.<\/p>\n
Five names.<\/p>\n
Five dates.<\/p>\n
Five amounts.<\/p>\n
M. Holloway \u2014 $4,000.<\/p>\n
D. Barrett \u2014 $3,500.<\/p>\n
R. Coleman \u2014 $7,250.<\/p>\n
T. Walker \u2014 $2,000.<\/p>\n
E. Prescott \u2014 $5,000.<\/p>\n
Each name had a small check mark beside it.<\/p>\n
At the bottom someone had written:<\/p>\n
H.M. kept copies.<\/p>\n
Nate frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cH.M. Harold Miller?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably,\u201d Opal said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was Grandpa Miller doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe repaired farm equipment. Bought and sold livestock. Helped neighbors with loans sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLoans?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cInformal ones.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWith this much cash?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople lived differently then.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate pointed at the list.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-one thousand seven hundred fifty dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn what year?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo year.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I noticed something else.<\/p>\n
One of the names was familiar.<\/p>\n
\u201cColeman.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cR. Coleman.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared.<\/p>\n
Then he understood.<\/p>\n
The Coleman family still lived outside town.<\/p>\n
They owned half a dozen farms.<\/p>\n
But there was another Coleman connection.<\/p>\n
Judy\u2019s maiden name.<\/p>\n
Judy Coleman.<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s mother.<\/p>\n
Opal saw recognition pass between us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate answered slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom\u2019s father was Robert Coleman.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal went completely still.<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew him?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal looked almost frightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert Coleman was on that list?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeven thousand two hundred fifty dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her hands flattened against the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at the paper.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Ronald.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate leaned toward her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother and father met in 1982.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert Coleman hated Ronald.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought Grandpa Coleman liked Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLater.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat changed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal looked at the paper again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
But her tone said she was beginning to suspect.<\/p>\n
Nate searched the box.<\/p>\n
There were no more letters.<\/p>\n
Only an old property map, a faded receipt from a feed store, a tiny brass key, and one final sealed envelope.<\/p>\n
On the front, in block letters, someone had written:<\/p>\n
OPAL ONLY.<\/p>\n
Her name.<\/p>\n
No address.<\/p>\n
No stamp.<\/p>\n
Opal stared at the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s Walter\u2019s handwriting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate held it toward her.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t take it.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was meant for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOpen it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cFor sixty years, Walter has brought nothing but trouble into every room he enters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis letter has been sitting inside a wall for decades.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat hasn\u2019t improved his personality.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite everything, I almost smiled.<\/p>\n
Nate slid the envelope across the table.<\/p>\n
Opal finally picked it up.<\/p>\n
The paper tore with a dry whisper.<\/p>\n
Inside was a single sheet.<\/p>\n
She read silently.<\/p>\n
Her eyes moved left to right.<\/p>\n
Then stopped.<\/p>\n
She read the same line again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d Nate asked.<\/p>\n
Opal lowered the page.<\/p>\n
Her face had gone pale.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is obviously not nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s old nonsense.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She folded the letter.<\/p>\n
Nate reached for it.<\/p>\n
Opal slapped his hand.<\/p>\n
Hard.<\/p>\n
He pulled back in surprise.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t get to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
She tucked the paper inside her handbag.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDecide what I read.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI absolutely do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m thirty-six years old.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll still be my grandson when you\u2019re seventy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis involves my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is precisely why I am not showing it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s voice sharpened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did Walter write?\u201d<\/p>\n
She picked up her coat.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake me home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n
They stared at each other.<\/p>\n
Neither blinked.<\/p>\n
Finally Nate looked away.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll drive you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pointed at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily brought me.\u201d<\/p>\n
So I drove her.<\/p>\n
For almost the entire six-mile trip, she said nothing.<\/p>\n
The folded letter remained inside her purse.<\/p>\n
At the edge of town, I finally asked, \u201cIs Nate in danger?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal looked out the passenger window.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is not a comforting answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t meant to be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes Ron know about the box?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes Walter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf Walter hid it, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCould Walter still come back?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe always comes back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old is he?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEighty-one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t sound very threatening.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal turned toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou haven\u2019t met Walter.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t ask again.<\/p>\n
When we reached her house, she took my hand before getting out.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo not tell Ronald we found anything in that wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if he asks whether I visited the house?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat should I say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell him the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat you did?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if he asks why?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell him I wanted to see whether he had missed anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she shut the truck door.<\/p>\n
That evening, Nate remained angry.<\/p>\n
Not loud.<\/p>\n
Nate almost never got loud.<\/p>\n
His anger worked the opposite way.<\/p>\n
It made him quieter.<\/p>\n
He spread the documents across our kitchen table at the apartment.<\/p>\n
He photographed each page.<\/p>\n
He searched old county records online.<\/p>\n
I made coffee.<\/p>\n
At nearly midnight, he said, \u201cMiller Agricultural Holdings was registered six months after those letters.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked over his shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo Dad formed the company after Walter contacted him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat else?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe registered address was the old dealership.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas Dad the owner?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPresident.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho else?\u201d<\/p>\n
He scrolled.<\/p>\n
\u201cVice president was Robert Coleman.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother’s father.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The loan.<\/p>\n
The ledger.<\/p>\n
The $7,250 beside Robert Coleman\u2019s name.<\/p>\n
Ron marrying Robert’s daughter.<\/p>\n
A business formed together.<\/p>\n
Pieces were beginning to connect.<\/p>\n
But not in any way I understood.<\/p>\n
Nate leaned back.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe Grandpa Coleman invested.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe Harold loaned him money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPossible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe none of this means anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
I placed the coffee beside him.<\/p>\n
\u201cPossible.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t believe that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither do I.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three days passed.<\/p>\n
Then Ron called.<\/p>\n
Nate put him on speaker.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGot a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice sounded casual.<\/p>\n
Too casual.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother heard something interesting at the beauty shop.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s eyes met mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cApparently somebody bought the old Miller property.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople buy property all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey do.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
Then:<\/p>\n
\u201cYour name wouldn\u2019t happen to be on the deed, would it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate leaned against the counter.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt would.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Absolute silence.<\/p>\n
When Ron finally spoke, his voice had changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou bought that place?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe wanted a house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat house is barely standing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s better than it looks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should\u2019ve talked to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know property.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo do I.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could\u2019ve found something better.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another pause.<\/p>\n
Then Ron asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate glanced at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cForty-one five.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron exhaled.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou paid forty-one thousand dollars for that dump?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus Christ.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate smiled without humor.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou gave me a card, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
Two years of restraint.<\/p>\n
Gone in six words.<\/p>\n
Ron said nothing.<\/p>\n
Then he laughed.<\/p>\n
But it sounded forced.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re still upset about Easter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou just brought it up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou asked why I bought a cheap house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t cheap if you have to rebuild half of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll manage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Same phrase.<\/p>\n
Same message.<\/p>\n
You can handle yourselves.<\/p>\n
Ron shifted again.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen, that property has a complicated history.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCourthouse records.\u201d<\/p>\n
A lie.<\/p>\n
Partly.<\/p>\n
Ron went quiet.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly have you looked at?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stared at the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m asking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy does it matter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why are you asking?\u201d<\/p>\n
I could almost hear Ron thinking.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I don’t want you getting into some title dispute.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe county conveyed clear title.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI still think you should sell it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s eyebrows lifted.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe just bought it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve rewired half the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeone might take it off your hands.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Fifty?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was not a height mark. It was a tiny star. Opal stared at it. Her face lost color. \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked. She didn\u2019t answer. \u201cOpal?\u201d \u201cThat wasn\u2019t there before.\u201d … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3333,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[23,21,22,1,5,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6526","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aita","category-daily-article","category-reddit-stories","category-story","category-story-daily","category-viral-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6526","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6526"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6526\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6531,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6526\/revisions\/6531"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3333"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6526"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6526"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6526"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}