Brooke had always admired her late grandfather, Charles, for his stoic wisdom and his ability to keep a secret. As a young girl, she had listened intently to his stories about the town’s past, full of drama and intrigue, but she never could have imagined that the most significant revelation of all would come from something as simple as an old mattress.

When Charles passed away, Brooke, now an adult, found herself standing in the doorway of his bedroom, feeling overwhelmed by the familiar scent of pipe tobacco and Aqua Velva aftershave—two scents that had always defined him.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Brooke whispered, the words feeling hollow as she gazed at the remnants of a life now gone.

On the nightstand beside her grandfather’s bed, a photograph of her parents stood out. The accident that took their lives had occurred years ago, leaving her with more questions than answers. Growing up without her parents was difficult enough, but losing her grandfather now was the final blow. She felt the weight of isolation, but she pressed on, determined to make sense of her loss.