Esmerelda insisted they accompany her to the garage storage area when the meeting ended. She pointed to one door, and Huxley opened it wide to let in the sunlight. He pulled the string to the overhead light. Esmerelda pulled back the edge of a dusty tarp and called their attention to three large aging cardboard boxes sitting on a shelf. She fanned away dust. “Hux,” she said, coughing some. “Can you bring one of those down without getting grimy?”
Tripp appeared out of nowhere, carrying a hoe. “Can I help?” he asked, propping the hoe outside the doorway.
“Sure,” Huxley said. “Grab an end.”
As they shifted the box to the floor something inside tinkled.
“Careful now,” Esmerelda said. “Tripp, open that, would you?”
“Sure, Mrs. T,” he said, producing a pocketknife. He slit the strapping tap
