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After Grandma passed, she left the ancestral home to my eldest uncle, and the antique shop she'd run for decades to my younger uncle.
The eight hundred thousand she'd saved went to my cousin.
When it came to me, all I got was one rusted kennel key.
My husband blew up on the spot.
"Miranda Simmons waited on Grandma for three years. Changed her, cleaned up after her, quit her job to sit by that hospital bed. If she doesn't deserve credit, she at least earned some sympathy, doesn't she? And in the end she gets a broken-down kennel? This is a joke."
Anthony James gave a scornful little laugh. "She did that on her own. Nobody made her. Besides, those eighteen old dogs were the apple of Mom's eye."
Frederick went further. He pulled out an adoption certificate and slapped it down on the offering table, saying my mother had been taken in from the orphanage forty years ago.
An outsider. What claim did she have to any of the estate? He told me to clear out of the ancestral home by tomorrow.
That night I curled up in the drafty kennel, wind coming through every gap, and dreamed of Grandma.
She took my hand, smiling, eyes crinkling.
"Mira, sweetheart, I left you something good. It's hidden right here in this kennel. Whether you find it depends on you."
...
I woke with a start and swept the kennel with my flashlight.
Broken walls, cracked roof tiles, eighteen old dogs, and nothing else.
Grandma's family had been tomb raiders. By her generation she'd gone straight and switched to trading antiques.
The most remarkable thing about her was that nose of hers. It didn't matter what the piece was. One sniff up close and she knew real from fake.
That skill built her a comfortable nest egg over the years.
Later her nose suddenly failed her, so she took in eighteen strays and threw herself into training them to sniff out antiques.
And she actually pulled it off. Those dogs saved her from plenty of fakes over the years.
But more than a decade had gone by. The dogs were old now, their noses dull.
These days they had to sniff a full minute over a meat bun set right in front of them, never mind an antique.
I stroked Boss's head and murmured to him.
"Grandma, you were afraid I'd walk off and leave them, weren't you? That's why you made up this story about treasure in the kennel. Don't worry. I won't let them go hungry."
Boss nuzzled my palm and let out a low whimper in his throat.
I pulled out my phone to check the time and only then saw seventeen missed calls.
All from Leslie Mason.
The last one was a voicemail. His voice shook with fury.
"Miranda, where are you? Anthony brought people to the house to throw us out, and now he's saying I stole something. Get back here, now!"
My mind went blank with a roar. I grabbed my jacket and ran.
By the time I reached the ancestral home, a crowd had already gathered at the gate.
Leslie stood in the middle of the yard, his face flushed red.
Across from him was Anthony, holding up a shattered blue-and-white porcelain vase.
The moment he saw me, he deliberately raised his voice. "Miranda, your husband tried to steal one of the old lady's antique vases while we were out. Caught him red-handed. His hand slipped and it smashed."
Leslie was shaking with rage. "That's a lie! I was packing our things. I never touched that vase! You're framing me!"
The onlookers whispered among themselves.
"Isn't that the adopted granddaughter from the James family? I heard her grandmother didn't leave her side of the family a thing."
"Still doesn't make it okay to steal."
"The two of them waited on the old lady three years and walked away with nothing. Bound to feel cheated, aren't they?"
I stood in the middle of the crowd, a chill crawling up my back.
I knew that vase. A reproduction Grandma had picked up for the shop. Worth twenty thousand at most.
But Anthony opened his mouth and demanded two million.
When I said nothing, he strolled over, raised an eyebrow. "Miranda, you saw it yourself. What got smashed was your grandmother's keepsake. Whoever breaks it pays for it. That's the rule."
"I don't have the money," I said.
Anthony's eyes dropped to my neck. "That jade pendant of yours is worth something, isn't it?"
My hand closed over the piece of mutton-fat white jade at my chest without thinking.
My parents died young. This pendant was all they left me.
Grandma told me it was fine mutton-fat white jade, that my father had traded half his life for it, roaming from one end of the country to the other.
Behind me Leslie shouted, panicked, "Miranda, don't give it to him!"
Anthony smiled. "Or don't. We'll just let the police sort this out. Plenty of people saw your husband steal, either way."
I closed my eyes. Grandma's words came back to me.
"Mira, a person has to know how to let go. Some things you have to give up before you can gain."
I untied the red cord, lifted the pendant off, and held it out.
Leslie's fists clenched. He moved to stop me, and I held him back.
His voice trembled.
"Miranda, they've walked all over us, and you're just going to let it go?"
"I really regret it. Breaking with my family just to marry you. I've had enough of living like a doormat!"
I opened my mouth, but before I could explain, he turned and walked off without looking back.
