Noah, Aaron, and Claire opened the final envelope together.
There was one instruction:
My yard. Nine o’clock. Bring something to plant.
When we crossed the street, the property looked different.
A landscaping company had already cut the lawn because the house was being prepared for sale.
Noah stopped near the curb.
For four years, every Saturday had meant crossing that street because someone needed him.
Now the work was finished.
Then Claire noticed a small untouched patch of soil beside the porch.
Mr. Vance had specifically ordered that it remain untouched until this morning.
Claire had brought a hydrangea.
“Mom’s favorite,” she explained.
Aaron picked up the shovel.
“I guess I’m digging.”
“You always hated yard work,” Claire teased.
“I still do.”
Noah smiled.
Aaron dug the hole.
Noah carefully lowered the hydrangea into the ground.
I brought water.
And strangely, nobody cried.
There was no hidden fortune.
