The attic smelled like cedarwood and warm paper.
Grace stood at the top of the steps, her small hand resting on the banister as she stared out over boxes stacked like time capsules and books that seemed older than the house itself.
Cassie watched from behind as her granddaughter took in the quiet.
“I used to come up here when I was your age,” she said softly. “Whenever I wanted to dream about things bigger than me.”
Grace turned, her eyes wide. “Can I dream here too?”
Cassie nodded. “That’s why I brought you.”
It had started as a simple sleepover, Grace’s first solo weekend at Grandma and Grandpa’s without her sisters. But it had quickly turned into something more: a chance for the first-born girl of the next generation to discover her roots.
Cassie reached for a dusty trunk and ope
