The afternoon before his youngest aunt’s wedding, Dog found his grandfather working in his tool shed.
“Good. You’re here,” his grandfather said, hiding his surprise. “Start taking everything out. We’ll need more room.”
So Dog hauled hammers and rakes, rubber boots and rusted bikes, saws, shovels, coils of rope and hoses out of the small shed, forming a pile between it and the back of the house. Once empty, his grandfather pried the floor boards up, throwing them outside. He worked the pick and Dog the shovel, digging down until they found a small lockbox.
“That’s it,” his grandfather said.