The dark yellow moving truck pulled up to the quiet neighborhood curb around noon.
Clara stood near her front porch with her arms crossed tightly against the chilly afternoon wind.
Two movers carefully stepped out from the heavy vehicle cab to open the rear metal doors.
They unloaded a scarred wooden piano that looked like it belonged in a forgotten basement.
Mover: Where do you want this heavy instrument placed, ma'am?
Clara: Just put it inside the living room near the wall window, please.
The men grunted as they pushed the heavy wooden object across the front threshold rug.
This battered instrument was the only thing Clara inherited from her late mother, Ellen.
When Ellen passed away three weeks ago, the family reading of the will felt cold and quick.
Clara remembered standing in the large polished office of the family estate attorney downtown.
Her stepmother, Victoria, had sat in a plush leather armchair wearing an expensive dark suit.
Her spoiled half-sister, Chloe, had played with a bright gold bracelet while giggling quietly.
Victoria: Ellen did not leave any savings or real estate behind for you, Clara.
Victoria: The house, the stock portfolio, and the land belong entirely to Chloe and me.
Clara: My father meant for my mother to be fully secured before he died.
Victoria: Well, the legal papers say otherwise, so do not cause a dramatic scene here.
The attorney had simply handed Clara a small slip of paper mentioning the old piano.
It was an old upright model that sat in the dark garage of the main mansion.
Clara wiped a tear from her eye as the moving men finished setting up the piano.
Mover: That will be fifty dollars for the neighborhood delivery fee, ma'am.
Clara handed the driver her last crisp bills from her thin brown leather wallet.
She sat down on the squeaky wooden bench and lifted the cracked keyboard lid slowly.
The ivory keys were discolored and covered in a thick layer of grey attic dust.
She gently pressed the middle key to hear the sound echo through her quiet home.
Instead of a clear musical note, the key made a dull wooden thud and stuck fast.
Something heavy inside the lower cabinet was preventing the wooden internal hammer from hitting the string.
Clara bent down on her knees to inspect the bottom wooden panel of the instrument.
She noticed two tiny brass latches tucked under the lower shelf frame near the foot pedals.
She turned the cold brass latches until they clicked open with a sharp metallic pop.
The bottom wooden board tipped forward into her lap and revealed the internal wire harp frame.
Tucked behind the low bass strings sat a thick yellow envelope wrapped in dark red twine.