He offered the books to Mar, and she took them graciously, balancing their weight carefully on her small lap.
“There is just one thing else, Ms. Reston.”
She turned to look up at him.
“It takes a very special person, one with great empathy, to have so many people willingly entrust their words, their ideas, their greatest secrets. You are that person, Mar.”
Mr. Evans pulled out a black, brushed velvet jewelry box, about the size of a deck of cards.
“Please take this.”
She blushed, but accepted the small jewelry box.
“Mar, if others have given you their full trust and confidence, then I see no reason to believe that you would not afford me the same respect and kindness. Please open the box.”
Mar lifted the brushed velvet lid.
Inside was a small silver key attached to a sterling silv
