Chapter 5: The Hole In The Ground

"You're late, Jenna," Vanessa said, and she sounded delighted. "I've been here since eight."

She was sitting in the waiting room of Walsh & Associates with a paper cup of coffee in her hand, legs crossed, looking like she owned the place. Maya had driven me over at a quarter to nine, and we both froze in the doorway. The office was small and old-fashioned, with a ticking wall clock and a vase of dusty silk flowers, and the last person I wanted to find in it was my husband's mistress.

"How do you even know where this is?" I asked, though I already knew.

"You were so careless with that tag." She smiled sweetly. "Steve said it was nothing, but I thought, why take the chance? A woman doesn't hide a key in a box for years over nothing."

"Who is this?" Maya asked, in a very flat voice.

"The woman my husband sleeps with," I said.

"Oh." Maya took a slow look at Vanessa and settled into the chair beside her, arms folded. "Then I'll wait right here."

Vanessa's smile slipped for the first time. Before she could say anything, a gray-haired receptionist came out from behind the desk and looked from one of us to the other. "Mr. Walsh will see the holder of the key," she said. "Only the holder. He was very specific."

"I'm here on behalf of her husband," Vanessa said smoothly. "It's a family matter."

"Mr. Walsh was very specific," the receptionist repeated, and she turned to me with a kinder look. "Miss, if you'd come this way?"

I walked past Vanessa without looking at her. My hands were shaking, but I held the key tightly against my palm until I felt the teeth bite into my skin.

Mr. Walsh was in his seventies, with white eyebrows and a rumpled suit, and he rose from his desk with an old-fashioned courtesy that made my throat tighten. He studied my face for a long moment. "You have Frank's eyes," he said quietly. "I've been waiting six years for you."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know."

"Frank said you wouldn't, until you needed it." He held out his hand for the key, turned over the tag, and nodded slowly. "This is the one."

He unlocked a drawer, took out a thick folder, and set it in front of me with a small, careful movement, as though it were made of glass. On top lay a sealed envelope with my name written in my grandfather's handwriting. I hadn't seen that handwriting since the funeral, and I had to press my lips together before I could open it.

Jenny, if you are reading this, then you needed this more than you wanted to ask for help. I'm sorry I can't be there. People will tell you that a hole in the ground isn't worth anything, but they only say that because they don't understand what it is. It's the one thing nobody can take from you, so keep it, keep the key close, and keep your head up. I love you, kiddo.

I read it twice, and then my eyes blurred and a tear dropped onto the paper. Mr. Walsh quietly slid a box of tissues across the desk and said nothing, which was exactly what I needed.

"The Old Quarry," he said gently, once I had wiped my face. "Ninety acres and a limestone mine with tunnels deeper than anyone has ever fully mapped. Your grandfather put it in trust in your name, to pass to you whenever you presented the key. The deed was registered four years before you were married. It cannot be touched by anyone else."

"Four years before," I repeated, and my pulse jumped. Steve had no idea what that meant, and I did.

"There's more." He turned a page. "He also left you a thirty-five percent stake in his old stone company, which makes you its largest single shareholder. And there's an account that has been collecting dividends since his death. It stands at a little over four hundred thousand dollars."

I stared at him. In my last life I had begged Steve for forty dollars to buy a winter coat.

"That's not possible," I whispered.

"It's entirely possible, my dear. It has simply been waiting for you."

I looked down at the deed, and an enormous, dizzying thought took shape in my mind. A mine, deep underground, sealed on every side. In sixty days the sky would turn black and the ash would bury the city, and nothing on the surface would be fit to live in. Steve had called it a worthless hole in the ground, and he had thrown away the best thing that had ever belonged to me, laughing as he did it. I pressed one hand over my mouth so I wouldn't laugh, or cry, or both.

"Mr. Walsh," I said, once I could trust my voice. "How deep do the tunnels go?"

"Deeper than I'd care to walk," he said, and he gave me a curious, slightly amused look. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm going to need it," I said. "And I'm going to need a good divorce attorney too, if you know one."

"I know several." He smiled. Then the smile faded, and he folded his hands on the desk. "Before you go, Jenna, there is one more thing. Three days ago, someone requested a copy of your grandfather's deed from the county records office. They paid extra for same-day service."

The room went very quiet. "Who?" I asked.

"The request was anonymous. But whoever it was knew exactly which file to ask for." He met my eyes. "I would be careful, my dear."

I thanked him, gathered the folder against my chest, and walked out through the waiting room, where Vanessa's chair was suddenly empty and Maya stood by the door with her car keys ready. We stepped out onto the sidewalk together, and my knees nearly gave way when I saw the man waiting by the curb.

He was leaning against a black car in a gray overcoat, tall and perfectly calm, with a thin folder tucked under one arm, and he straightened the moment he saw me.

"Ms. Jenna?" he said. "I've been trying to find the owner of the Old Quarry for two years."

He glanced past me at the building, then back at my face, and he lowered his voice.

"I think we should talk before anyone else gets to you."