At the counter, she hesitated, then slid the key across to the clerk. “I… found this among my late husband’s things,” she said softly. The clerk’s polite smile faltered. With a nod, he disappeared, returning moments later with a manager who requested she follow him.
In a small office, the manager explained that Daniel had arranged for her to be contacted. “There are documents in storage,” he said carefully. “We require identification and your signature to release them.” Maggie’s hands trembled as she produced her driver’s license. The process felt ceremonial.