Epilogue
T he front door of the cottage opened and closed. Finn’s voice carried down the hall, announcing his return.
Rose sat with folded legs on her cold bedroom floor, the nearby window cracked open enough to allow the sounds of scrambling squirrels and chirping birds to drift in.
Her nightstand drawer sat open. A packing box nearby held a few of the items she’d pulled from the drawer. Old journals, near-empty lotion bottles, and too many tubes of lip balm.
A wrapped rectangular box sat in her hands, one she’d forgotten about after Magnolia’s death. She’d found it behind the stack of filled journals in her nightstand.
Magnolia’s lawyer had given it to her after the reading of the will, near eight months ago. The feel of the paper wrapping, its edges, brought a tumult of emotions—a mix of nostalgia, grief and memory.
Finn appeared in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee from Firebrew.
As if he sensed her feelings, he asked, “Everything okay?”
“I started packing and found this. I received it after Magnolia passed.”
Finn moved into the room, sat on the carpet across from her, and held out her drink. “What’s inside?”
Rose accepted her mocha. After a sip, she said, “I don’t know. The night the will was read, the letter from her—it was too much.”
He scooted closer. His fingers slipped just inside the gaping tear in her overalls above her knee. His palm felt warm against her skin, loving.
“You never opened it?”
“No. I put it in this drawer, thinking I’d open it later that day…”
He offered a wry smile. “But your world turned to chaos.”
She nodded. He knew her too well. These past months—Magnolia’s death, inheriting Briar House, learning that Magnolia was her birth mother—was only the beginning. The night George Hindley set fire to the house, his obsession over Magnolia, then her, still gave Rose occasional nightmares.
Seeing the reconstruction of what the arsonist tried so hard to destroy helped.
The sounds of hammering, the buzz of the saw cutting new wood, restored her belief that Briar House would stand complete once again.
Rolling wet paint over new walls healed her, along with the refinishing projects Willow devised for the two of them.
Finn asked, “Do you want to open the box now?”
Once more, Rose turned it over and over in her hands. Her fingers traced the folded edges on either end.
“I have to open it. It’s been eight months. I know the others received their manilla envelopes. Aspen wears a necklace and earrings she said came from Magnolia. Willow has a cameo that’s come down through the Finch side of the family tree.”
“They never asked what you received?”
Rose shook her head. “No. It would have been intrusive. And vice versa.”
“I get that.”
She sipped her hot mocha and studied him. He wore his old paint-splattered jeans and an old tee. She found the combo mouth-watering, and her thoughts turned to the passions of the night before, the parts of her that still felt tender from their lovemaking.
She took another drink, licked her lips, and set her coffee on the nightstand.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Finn said. The words came out in what she’d decided was his sexy voice. “We’ve only got three days left to pack.”
The main house, under reconstruction these past months, would be ready in four days.
Her family, their friends, were coming to help move the items here along with all they’d had to put in storage during the rebuild.
She well knew boxes didn’t pack themselves.
Yet, she couldn’t resist edging closer to him. “One kiss. To tide us over.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he didn’t trust her to stick with one. “One kiss. Then you open the box.” His hand around her knee tightened.
Her insides flickered as their lips met, more than once. Desire flared as if they hadn’t spent much of last night making love. Her fingers threaded into his hair while his moved higher beneath her overalls. She forgot about packing and the box in her hand.
He broke away first. Restraint edged his voice. “That was more than one kiss. We’ll continue this later. Open the box, Evie.”
Breathless, her fingers made quick work of the rose print wrapping paper. She lifted its lid and frowned.
A single metal key on a long waxed cord lay secured around a flocked jewelry card.
Her brows furrowed as she pulled the tiny tab to lift it from the box. Nothing lay underneath.
Finn said, “There’s something written on the back.”
Rose turned it over.
Three words and numbers—in Magnolia’s handwriting.
Your next mystery
#1862
He asked, “What does it mean?”
Rose didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
A quest. Magnolia had left her a quest, with only a key and four numbers to lead them.
She lifted the key up to the light, felt its serrated edge, a pattern that would unlock something. Exactly what she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. And Finn would help her.
“We have a new mystery to solve,” Rose said.
T he light in Rose’s eyes reminded Finn of the little girl he’d followed through the woods long ago. The key clutched in her hand was old. Its brass color and square teeth reminded him of a jack-o'-lantern he’d carved back in elementary school.
She stood. “There are numbers on here. I need my magnifying glass.”
Rose disappeared from the room, returning a moment later with her magnifying glass. She moved to stand by the window, focused on the key in hand.
“I was right,” she said. “There are numbers. Tiny ones. Near impossible to read.”
She wore a purple tank top underneath a faded pair of overalls. The light illuminated her hair, wound in what she called a messy bun, loosened after their kiss. Tendrils fell over her face as she nibbled her lower lip.
His fingers curled against his thighs. This woman was going to be his wife. In twenty-eight days.
Rose spun and moved to sit beside him, showing him what she’d found.
“Read the numbers out. I’ll write them down so we don’t need the glass,” he said.
“There’s paper and pens in my nightstand.”
Seconds later, they studied the numbers on a small notepad. Nine of them.
“The key’s old, based on the teeth.”
He had a thought. He’d never had one, only seen them in movies. Seeing as her family was wealthy and had lived in the area for generations, he asked, “Does your family have a safe deposit box?”
“I don’t know. No one’s ever mentioned it.”
“Whatever this unlocks, I don’t think it’s in Evers Hollow.”
Rose’s true identity had been a well-kept secret. He didn’t think it was too much of a leap to guess this key echoed that secret.
She set the magnifying glass on her bed and pulled out her phone, corded key dangling from her fingers.
“Morning Broome. Do you know if Magnolia kept a safe deposit box?”
Finn stood, moved to the edge of her bed. He watched her, but only heard her side.
“I see,” she said. “I forgot about the gift. I shoved it in a drawer.”
Rose twirled her hair around her fingers as she listened.
“Do you know where it is?”
“What do you mean I’ll have to figure it out?”
After another exchange, she hung up.
She moved toward Finn, wedged herself between his legs. “The family had a safe deposit box. Broome won’t tell me if it still exists or where it would be. He said that this puzzle is for me to figure out.”
Finn bracketed her waist with his hands. Tilting his head back, he said, “So, Ruby and Jed are back in play.”
She smiled. “Ha-ha. I’d say with our years of experience, we’ll be the smarter pair.”
They exchanged another kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers.
“Can we get into trouble with the locals?”
Her fingers scraped against his scalp. “Only if broken bones aren’t involved.”
B roome gave her one clue.
The numbers are key.
How cute of him to use the object’s word in the clue.
She and Finn moved to the small dining table in the cottage’s kitchen. She pulled out lemon poppyseed bread while Finn used her blender to make berry smoothies.
Once seated, Rose said, “Nine numbers engraved on a key. It might be associated with a safe deposit box or not. Any ideas?”
He spread lemon blueberry jam on the poppyseed bread. “I think we can rule out the nine rings of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a given.”
After a few bites, Finn silently counted off something on his fingers. Nine. He did the same a second time.
He said, “Social Security numbers and phone numbers come in nines.”
“I think we can assume the number is something else.” It wouldn’t make sense to engrave a phone number on a key.
“Maybe the safe deposit box still exists,” he said. “According to the movies, it would be inside a bank.”
“What movie?”
“The one with the bank,” he said.
With sarcasm, she said, “Thanks. That narrows it down quite a bit.”
“It was an action movie.”
She stood to retrieve her laptop from her desk. “We’re not getting our research from movies.”
He set his coffee mug down with a smile. “I’ve got it. Bourne Identity .”
She shook her head and began typing.
Finn moved his chair closer. “Are you pulling up a video clip from the movie?”
“I am not. Jason Bourne won’t help us solve this. If I remember right, that movie took place in Paris. I’m looking up what the numbers mean.”
“Practical,” he said. “Maybe we can do a Bourne movie marathon soon.”
She pressed Return on her keyboard. Results popped up, including locksmith sites and links to purchase engraved keys. Nothing about what nine numbers meant. Finn leaned close enough to see the screen.
“Maybe focus on the key related to safe deposit boxes.”
She typed in new search parameters and waited for the information to fill the screen. First, the internet recommended reaching out to banks to find out if Magnolia had a box.
Finn pointed to the screen. “Click on this one.”
She did. Some keys had a routing number on them. All she had to do was enter the numbers.
Finn reached across the table, picked up the piece of paper with the sequence, reading it aloud.