Chapter 19 - Inside the Steel Box
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Graham didn't follow me outside.
He stood in the library, listening to the sound of my leather bag scraping softly against the stone steps, hearing the car door open, and hearing the iron gates at the end of the driveway creak open and shut as my car pulled away into the Charleston fog.
When the house went completely silent, Graham picked up the brass key and the white index card from the coffee table.
He walked upstairs to his private study like a man moving through a nightmare.
He swung open the wall panel behind his bookshelf, inserted the brass key into the sub-lock, and lined up the dial with the six digits written on the card:
1-0-2-4-2-6—October 24th. Today's date. The day I left him.
The heavy steel deadbolts clicked back with a deep, echoing metallic groan.
Graham pulled the heavy door open.
Sitting alone in the dark, cold interior of the steel safe was the navy velvet box.
With trembling hands, Graham pulled the box out into the warm desk light. He sat down in his leather armchair, holding the velvet case against his chest for three minutes, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe.
Finally, he opened the lid.
Resting on dark silk was the immaculate 1958 Vacheron Constantin chronograph. The gold casing caught the light, gleaming with flawless perfection. The secondhand swept around the dial with silent, beautiful accuracy.
Graham carefully lifted the watch from its velvet bed and turned it over to look at the polished gold back casing.
Engraved in tiny, elegant script were six simple words:
May you like
Every moment still begins with us.
Graham pressed the cold gold watch against his lips and wept into the silent, empty room until the sun began to rise over the Charleston horizon.
