He sat beside her.
Margaret rested her head against his shoulder.
Neither spoke.
Ten minutes became forty.
Then Margaret sat up.
“Thank you.”
Elias looked toward her.
“For what?”
She smiled.
“Not taking advantage of a sleepy woman.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I was tempted to steal your ledger.”
“That is worse.”
The affection growing between them made the discovery under the office floorboards more dangerous.
Margaret found the loose board during a rainstorm.
The first proper rain of the season arrived hard in September.
Water hammered the roof.
One office corner leaked.
She moved a storage chest and noticed a floorboard rising slightly.
Thinking damp had warped it, she pulled.
The board came free.
Beneath it sat a narrow wooden box.
Old.
Dusty.
Locked.
Margaret stared.
She should have left it.
She knew.
Then she saw writing.
Faded ink across the lid.
WHITMORE
Her blood went cold.
Margaret crouched with difficulty.
Pulled the box out.
The lock had rusted nearly through.
She did not break it.
Instead, she lifted the box onto the desk.
Waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Rain continued.
Elias had gone to inspect the southern fence.
Margaret stared at her family name.
Whitmore.
Not common.
Not impossible.
But hidden beneath Elias Blackwood’s office floor?
Her hands began shaking.
She looked through desk drawers.
No key.
Then noticed a small brass key tied beneath the box with decayed string.
She stopped.
Someone had wanted the box opened eventually.
Margaret turned the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside:
Three letters.
A folded deed.
A small photograph.
And one envelope.
The envelope had yellowed.
Her name appeared in handwriting she did not recognize.
Margaret Blackwood
She stopped breathing.
Not Whitmore.
Blackwood.
Her first name.
His surname.
Written years ago.
She had never been married.
Never been Margaret Blackwood.
She had never met Elias before August.
Her fingers shook so badly the envelope rattled.
Behind her:
“Where did you find that?”
Margaret spun.
Elias stood in the doorway.
Rain behind him.
Face pale.
He looked not angry.
Terrified.
Margaret held the envelope.
“Why does this have my name?”
He did not move.
“Margaret…”
“Answer.”
His eyes closed.
She rose slowly.
The enormous size of her body made standing from a crouch difficult, but anger gave her speed.
“Why is my married name written on an envelope older than the day I arrived?”
“You are not married.”
“You understand exactly what I mean.”
Elias stepped inside.
Margaret backed away.
That hurt him.
Good.
He deserved some hurt.
“You knew.”
“Not everything.”
“You knew something.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Elias looked toward the box.
“Before the advertisement.”
Margaret felt the room shift.
The letters.
The fare.
The invitation.
All of it changed meaning.
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”