Henry and Jonah found their treasure.
“I don’t believe you.” Jonah sat in the armchair watching Henry frantically begging. “How many times have you told me this before. The last time we almost got arrested because the lady had no idea her son said yes.”
“Only a 40-year-old man lives in this house. I’ve talked with him on the phone. Please, Jonah. No one else answered my ad.”
Jonah wavered. In the past two weeks, Henry pulled him to six different houses. The occupants didn’t have what they promised, or an 85-year-old lady would call the police. Jonah was tired of chasing Henry’s dream and fighting the idea of going out into the rain, but he would.
Jonah pushed himself off the couch while Henry bounced. Henry’s exuberance was cute for a six-year-old, but he was 28 and spent a lot of hours at the gym. “I don’t believe you. But I will try only one more time.” Jonah knew he was lying to himself and Henry.
They pulled up to the Victorian home. It was the type of house which could hold Henry’s treasure. They got out of the car and walked to the door. Before they could knock, it opened.
“You Henry Ford?”
“Yes sir. This is my friend Jonah Walters.”
“Come in. I have them in the kitchen.”
Following the man into the kitchen, they found a table laden with old keys. “There are 32. They will cost you one-hundred-dollars.”
“Ok,” Henry pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet.
They gathered up the keys and headed home. Twenty-five keys later, Henry opened his great-grandfather’s tin box. The dated love letters in the box were between his great-grandparents. They were the documentation he needed to take his genealogical research back to the 1500s.