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the other day.” Kiera’s voice delved deeper, but stopped short of prying. Barely.
    Cress pretended to be absorbed in the task at hand. “Yup.”
    “So…”
    She turned then, wishing they’d all shut up, wishing her leg didn’t hurt, wishing—
    “I’m here until I’m ready to go back. Minneapolis isn’t going to fall apart because one hard-nosed detective has run home.”
    “Cress, I…”
    “We’ve got work, girls.” Gran stepped closer to the chest, effectively ending the moment.
    Cress took the cue . “How can we help you speed this along?”
    “Some things need quick.” Gran peered down, over her glasses, meeting Cress’s gaze. “And some need thought. No need to hurry work like this, not when there’s things you should know.”
    Cress didn’t do slow. If she had, she’d still be a beat cop. But she hauled in a breath because this was Gran’s timeline. Not hers. “Not to split hairs, but you’re the one fighting life-threatening illness. Kiera was right.” She hated admitting that. “Shouldn’t you sit?” She indicated the edge of the old-fashioned bed with a nod. “I can hand things up to you.”
    “There’ll be plenty of time for restin’ soon enough. ” Gran’s tone said the topic was closed. “I’ll do while I can do.”
    Of course.
    Audra pulled up a chair from the old oak desk in spite of Gran’s words. “If you get tired, we can switch up. Okay?”
    “Or stop,” Kiera suggested, her left leg already twitching from immobility.
    Gran eyed her, stern. “What needs be done, needs be done.”
    “Right.”
    Kiera didn’t look convinced, but if life wasn’t moving a hundred and seventy miles an hour, her world tilted askew. Curled up in a chair for however long it took to sort out a seventy-two-year-old life would be torture for her.
    But not nearly as tortuous as it would be for Cress, so Kiera could just suck it up.
    “ We’ll see how much we can get done today,” Gran decided. “Then come back to it tomorrow.”
    “ Perfect.” Kiera didn’t mask the cryptic note in her voice.
    Gran turned her way, scolding . “Goods don’t matter like people matter. Their hopes. Their dreams. This chest is filled with more than old things. Your Great-grandpa’s in here. Your uncles. My ma and pa. It’s our history.”
    “And yet it looks so small.”  Kiera flashed a less-than-innocent smile Gran’s way. “Okay, Gran. Your show.”
    Her words darkened Gran’s demeanor. Kiera stuttered, then backtracked, not too successfully. Hard to be discreet when you’ve just dissed a potentially dying person. “I mean —”
    Gran bent and lifted the first item from this chest, a hand-crocheted baby gown, ivory-white, thin, delicate yarn giving the garment a look of old world lace. Beautiful. Seamless. Amazing.
    “This was my christening gown,” Gran explained, extending her hands. Cress reached up and ran a reverent finger across the nubbed fabric as if touching something holy, beyond special. “My grandmother made it before I was born . We all used it, Sylvie, me, my brothers. And then your mother wore it and used it for you girls.”
    “ Three generations.” The respect in Audra’s tone reflected Cress’s emotion. Unlike Audra, she was the queen of toss this and throw that, refusing links to anything for too long. But something like this, the feather-soft cotton yarn warm and smooth—
    “So far.” Gran didn’t make eye contact, but this was Gran. She didn’t need to. “It might get used again. Who’s to say?”
    “It’s lovely.” Cress opened her hands. “May I?”
    Gran handed it over . Nimble, Cress unfolded the minute gown. Small things tumbled from the folds, landing in her lap. “What’s this?” She smiled as she shifted her look back to Gran.
    “Booties.” Audra laughed as she reached across, extricating the petite foot warmers. “And a bonnet.”
    “You put boys in bonnets?” Kiera again, not making points. Probably not caring. Typical.
    “Everyone