They left at dawn, the same early hour they had left for Arcata, the lake house receding behind them in the rearview mirror. Sophie drove the first stretch while Aaron watched the sky lighten, the highway curving through the hills toward the coast.
The fog was thick in the valleys, burning off slowly as the sun climbed, revealing fields and vineyards and small towns that had been hidden moments before. Aaron had made this drive before, years ago, but it felt different now — every mile bringing him closer to something he had been searching for without knowing it.
He had not slept well. The key was in his pocket, and he had kept reaching for it in the dark, touching the metal to confirm it was real. Somewhere in San Francisco was a storage unit that held the answers he had been chasing for weeks. The name of the person who funded the trust. The letter his father had written. The full story of what had been set in motion before he was born.
