It sat there in a jumble because Aunt Anna frowned against vanity of any kind; that was probably one of the reasons she disliked my mother so much. I carefully opened the box and the hinges creaked as if in protest at being removed from their dark hiding place. Nothing really looked like it was of value. None of it compared to the flashing diamonds and other gems, which my mother had worn on her fingers. It was probably more sentimental in value than anything. All of it was mostly sedate which suited my family who had believed that money was to be taken care of and simple living should be the rule. My father, of course, was the exception to that rule. And someone else in the family tree must have also broken the rule, because apart from the land, any fortunes were gone by the time I came along. I sat down on the floor and carefully removed each item and placed it on the coffee table. The stairs creaked to signal that Clay was coming down. Unfortunately, he was clothed now, and rubbed at his hair with a towel.
