Warning: AU, Pseudo-Historical Romance, PG-13, Ran/Ken.

Disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.

Author's Note: Here it is. The last of the 18th Century stories. As you'll notice from the chapter title, this one is a little bit different. And, yes, I did say there would be five originally, but the one between "When He Danced with Me" and this one has never gotten off the ground. So I skipped it. Enjoy! :)

Our Own Secret Kingdom

Chapter One: 2007

Aya Fujimiya skipped up from the tennis courts towards the ancestral seat of her family. She snorted as she passed the old walnut hedge that hid the courts from the garden at the back of the house and paused to take in the sight. Scaffolding covered most of the back of the house and workmen crawled over it like busy bees on a hive. To the right side of the house, the side that had the ballroom, a massive backhoe stood ready to permanently alter the landscape. Shaking her head she continued through the rose garden and up towards the tarped back entrance. At least her stupid brother was leaving the rose garden intact and the orchard on the left side of the house. Probably too attractive to guests to be destroyed.

She shouldered her tennis racket, slipped under the tarp and in through the back door. There was as much activity inside as out and on her way through the back hall toward the front no less than three members of the staff and two workmen nearly collided with her. Ignoring them all she came out into the large front hall and started up the grand staircase, humming tunelessly as her eyes scanned the family portraits hung in the long hall gallery that she could see from the stairs. The same thought always ran through her head when she looked at them.

"We all look alike, we Fujimiyas. We're all pale skinned, fine boned delicate creatures with either black or ginger hair, and it never changes. Regardless of who we procreate with."

Reaching the top of the stairs she turned to her left to stroll along the gallery that was flowing with familial representations, some better than others. Just as the people themselves had been.

She strolled past her brother's room and noted absently that the door was open. She could hear him talking to someone. Probably on the phone.

"Aya."

Or not. She kept going.

"Aya. Answer me when I speak to you," her brother said coming out his door and into the hallway. "Please."

She stopped walking and turned around to face him. Her tennis skirt twirled against her thighs and one of her braids bounced against her racket. She blew her long black bangs out of her deep blue eyes.

"Yes, Ran," she said looking up at him.

He was frowning. His intense violet eyes studying her wearily behind his glasses.

"Have you cleaned out the small storage room? The one you've been throwing all your junk into?" he asked.

"No, Ran," she answered and turned her back on him once more.

"Aya, I need you to clean it out," he said, not quite a command. She imagined she could see him rake a hand through his shaggy red hair. It would be left mussed but still stylish.

"It's not junk, Ran," she said glancing back at him over her shoulder as she moved away. Smirking when she saw she'd been right about his hair. "It is a storage room and I have been storing my things in it. My stuff. My belongings."

"Well next week it's scheduled to become two small bathrooms, so would you please remove your belongings?" he asked.

Aya stopped on a sigh and turned to face him again.

"When are the contractors starting work?" she asked.

"Tuesday. And the plumbers as well."

"Alright. I'll start on it today," she said. "I'll ask Betsy to help me. Most of it's junk anyway."

Ran gave her a look and started to walk back into his room.

"You promised Dad you wouldn't change anything," Aya stated. It sounded like a challenge and it was.

Ran halted and turned to face her again.

"I promised I wouldn't sell anything," he replied firmly. "And I'm not."

"Except our pride," she countered.

"Pride won't keep this estate intact," her brother stated.

"And turning our house, our home, into a hotel will?" Aya asked with more than a note of sarcasm.

"Not a hotel. A resort," Ran corrected. "If we're going to keep it intact then we need to make it pay for itself. Do you know how much it costs to keep this place going? To pay for the heat and the lights?"

"Yes. You've told me," she said getting bored with the conversation. It was always the same. She wondered why she'd started it. "Dad never had any trouble."

Ran's exasperated expression softened.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, and for half a second she didn't.

Aya took a deep breath. "Yes," she replied. "I'm not a child, Ran."

He looked like he might debate that, but didn't.

"Dad's medical expenses were...extreme," her brother said and his broad shoulders straightened. "Between them, his funeral, and the monies he left in trust for his favorite charities there just isn't that much left."

Aya blinked in surprise.

"Dad wasn't as skilled an investor as Grandpa," her brother admitted.

"Are things really as desperate as that?" she asked in shock.

"Not quite," Ran said. "But close. I'd like to keep my promise to Dad and have something to pass on to your children."

Aya let go of her stunned surprise with a laugh.

"I'm not sure I'll have any," she said. "And you shouldn't let your preferences stop you. Everyone's having kids now a days."

Ran smiled a little and nodded.

"Clean out the storage room?" he asked.

"I said I would," Aya cried swinging back around and heading for her room. "I'll just change first."

"Hn."

Aya entered her room and closed her door. She tossed her racket onto her bed and pouted at it before going to her wardrobe where she chose a pair of jeans and a sweater, and contemplated her brother. She loved him. She really did, but he'd been different since their father died. More serious, more quiet. Of course, now she could see why. How come he hadn't told her before? Probably trying to be noble and protective. She'd always thought that deep inside Ran was a creampuff, but he'd proven that when needs must he fit the serious and stoic Fujimiya family image to a tee. He could be as cold and unyielding as a glacier. Even to her.

"And to think he used to be fun," she muttered.

However she had to admit that he had managed to keep things going for the year and a half since their father's death. And he'd had the idea of turning the house into a hotel...resort, which really wasn't bad except it meant they had to move out. Not far, but into one of the other properties on the estate. They were still deciding which one. That was the idea Aya loathed. Even though she knew they'd been lucky to live in the house as long as they had, she wasn't ready to leave it. It was home. But now that she knew about the finances, well there was no helping it.

She changed her clothes and then picked up the receiver to the phone beside her bed. After a minute the line was answered by their head butler.

"Yes, Miss Aya?" his stuffy voice asked with perfect diction. You had to know him as well as she did to hear the affection it held.

"McNabb, would you please find Betsy and have her join me in the small storage room?"

"Certainly, Miss. Are we cleaning the small storage room?"

"We are," she answered with a tight smile.

"I'll send Betsy right along, Miss."

"Thank you," she dropped the receiver back into the cradle and left her room.

The small storage room was two doors down from her's. Squeezed between the last of the family bedrooms, it was a small room where Aya, and many a Fujimiya before her, dumped their junk. Most of her junk was in boxes and she didn't think it would take her too long to go through it. As she said most of it was of little import and could be tossed.

Betsy met her there with a box of trash bags and within an hour they'd gone through all her boxes and were starting on the other boxes and trunks.

"Those, I think, are Ran's," Aya said indicating two smaller boxes bearing her brother's hand writing. "We'll leave those to him, but we might as well sort through the chest of drawers. I think it was my mother's."

"Heirlooms?" Betsy asked with a good deal of cheek.

"Hardly," Aya laughed. Everyone knew Lady Adela Fujimiya collected kitsch when she'd been alive and that Aya and Ran's grandmother had thrown most of it out once she was dead. "I believe they're mostly clothes. Things she'd tucked away."

She pulled open a drawer and took out a bag of handmade potholders, and the two of them laughed. Soon they had everything in the drawers sorted into garbage and give away piles. Betsy had to leave soon after and scooped up the give aways on her way out. Aya continued shifting trunks and boxes marveling at how deep the "little storage room" actually was. She doubted she'd ever seen the back of it. Shoving another box aside she noticed what looked like a mantel piece tucked into the back left-hand corner.

"Was there a fire place in here?" she asked herself as she worked her way back to it.

It turned out to be the mantel of a mock fireplace built into the corner of the room. It was actually a little cupboard designed to look like a fireplace. Boxes covered its few shelves and were also stuffed inside the firebox.

"Now that's just too weird," Aya muttered as she opened all the compartments and pulled the boxes out of the firebox. There was very little in it, mostly dust and cobwebs. "Hunh. Weird," she said again but she couldn't stop studying it.

Why would anyone design a fireplace you couldn't use, even for storage since anything you set there would get dusty and require cleaning. Before she realized what she was doing Aya found herself on her hands and knees feeling the inside of the firebox.

The latch was under the lip of the mantel and when she pressed it the back of the box swung open. Tucked inside, in a space that looked like it was designed to fit it, was a wooden box. A box with filigree, feathers, and flowers painted on it.

Aya carefully reached inside and pulled the box out. It was heavier than she was expecting and she ended up dragging it across the floor. Once it was clear of the door that had concealed it Aya swung that shut.

Gently she lifted off the lid and peered inside. Burgundy velvet met her eyes. Whatever was in the box was wrapped up in it. Aya pulled back the folds of cloth until she came to a wax sealed envelope resting atop a pile of books, or at least she guessed there was a pile. The top one was a book at any rate. She took out the envelope and studied the wax seal.

It was also burgundy and partially cracked with age. The design was the Fujimiya coat of arms. Aya flipped the envelope over.

"To whomever finds this box" was neatly scrawled across the front and she guessed that it was old. The 's's looked like 'f's. Carefully she pulled the wax seal free and took out the letter that was folded up inside.

"September 1801

Dear Mysterious Stranger,

I hope this letter finds you and your's well and content with your positions in life. I can not but hope that you may know who I am and may perhaps even be one of my future relations. At the date of this letter I have reached my 84th year and have now out lived nearly everyone who could possibly have a direct connection to these, my journals. I have, as was always my intention, published them, in part, and have had the great satisfaction of shocking all of my impertinent children and grandchildren with the contents. However, due to certain circumstances I withheld much of what I would have known. In order to protect my beloved nephew, Ren, I have been forced to alter the truth or leave it out entirely, and deny the existence of one of the greatest, most romantic love stories it has ever been my privilege to witness. To me this is little more than a crime, but one I am unable to rectify myself. So, I leave it to you.

Here, in this box, are my journals. Read them. If you find you are not shocked beyond measure, then publish them again in their entirety and see what may become of it. No doubt, unless things are very much altered from how they are at present this action will cause some problems for any living heirs of Ren's. As much as I wish this were not so there can be no help for it. Publish the books and solve the one mystery I could not. Discover who is the father of my beloved Ren.

In Most Sincere Gratitude,

Grand Duchess Aya Fujimiya Kudou"

Aya suddenly realized she was holding her breath and forced herself to breath. She also felt herself fighting the compulsion to squeeze the letter and so set it down on the pile of books still inside the box. Then not trusting it to be real she carefully picked it back up again.

Of course she knew who the letter writer was. Everyone did. Well, anyone in the family and a large number of historical scholars and enthusiasts, and of course anyone who'd watched the TV series based on her life which had been popular about thirty years before when historical dramas were all the rage. In fact, the Grand Duchess's journals had been reprinted then with some black and white photos of a few of the portraits from their gallery on glossy pages in the center of the book. That was the one both she and Ran had read, and presumably their parents who'd taken great delight in naming them after the Grand Duchess and her brother the Earl.

But to think that version was incomplete and there, sitting unassumingly on the floor before her, were the original journals in all their hand written glory.

Setting the letter aside she picked up the top volume. The cover was leather and the book sewn together so it flopped in her hand reminding her to take extra care. She opened the cover gently and read the inside where a familiar scrawl said, "Journal One, begun October 1733, Lady Aya Fujimiya." Turning the first page Aya saw the neat hand writing covered the sheet and she closed the book.

Her first impulse was to run to Ran. The original journals had been presumed destroyed since no one had been able to locate them among the Grand Duchess's things upon her death, and they were surely worth a small fortune.

"Not destroyed, but hidden," Aya muttered to herself, "and here rather than in Town on the Kudou estate. So she wanted one of us to find them."

One of the descendants of Saki Kudou-Fujimiya, her second son who'd taken his mother's maiden name and inherited the Earldom from his uncle, the Grand Duchess's brother who was dearly loved but only spoken of in a general way. The benevolent and mysterious Earl Ran Fujimiya who left the running of his estate to first his mother and then his sister and nephew. Very few of his personal belongings were found in the house, Aya suddenly remembered. Where were they? And who was...

She picked up the letter again.

"Ren," she read.

Aya decided to follow her second thought which was to do as the letter indicated and read the journals. Then she would decide whether to tell Ran or simply surprise him by publishing them herself. In her mind she could see his face as she presented him with a nice fat check. Perhaps they'd be able to stay in the house. She shook her head violently to clear it before her imagination truly took flight.

First things first, she refolded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope then put everything back into the box as she'd found it and replaced the lid. Lifting it carefully she carried it into her bedroom and set it down beside her desk. She spent the rest of that day and the two following in her room reading. By the end of the third day she went to their library where she looked up the Hidakas in an old copy of Bromsen's Peerage. On the fourth day she loaded the box and an over night bag into her car and headed into Town to see her cousin who was part owner of Royal Publishing, the firm that had published the journals back in the seventies, and who also bore a family name. She'd called ahead and he was anxiously awaiting what she would bring him. Ran, she was sure, could forget all their financial troubles and go back to being the fun brother she was used to.

Three months later Earl Ran Fujimiya sat at his desk in the office of his home and contemplated the architectural renderings of the house and the landscape designs of the grounds. The Olympic sized pool was finished and they'd begun the laying of the stone patio that was to extend from the ballroom, now set up to serve as a restaurant, and surround it. Inside the house most of the changes needed for converting it to a resort were nearly completed. Soon he and Aya would have to remove to the grounds keeper's cottage so the interior designers could come in and get to work. With any luck they'd be open for business by Christmas and the estate, or at least the main house, would start supporting itself.

His cell phone rang and he absently answered it.

"Ran," he said as he continued to study the diagrams.

"Heyla, Cousin," said a loud, jovial voice that made him wince in recognition.

"Yohji," Ran greeted tersely. "What do you want?"

"Your lovely sister, actually, but I can't get her," came the reply.

"Good."

"Now, now. Is that anyway to speak to a devoted cousin?"

"We're barely related."

A long suffering sigh issued over his phone and Ran scowled.

"Seriously, Ran, is Aya there? Her phone won't pick up and your land line is busy," Yohji said.

"She's probably on it," Ran stated then set his cell phone down and yelled, "Aya!"

After waiting a few minutes and not receiving an answer he picked his cell phone back up.

"She's not here," he stated.

"Damn. Look, I need to schedule a time for a photographer to head over there and I need to do it today. I'm leaving for the weekend and won't be back until Tuesday and we need the photos ASAP so we can start planning layout. So, can I send someone down on Saturday?"

Ran blinked down at the top of his desk and frowned in confusion.

"A photographer? For what? The interiors won't be started for at least two weeks. We haven't even finalized our ideas. And the exteriors aren't finished yet," he said.

"Not for the house," Yohji said. "The portraits."

"What portraits? Yohji, what are you talking about?" Ran demanded.

There was a long pause followed by another sigh.

"It's supposed to be a surprise."

Ran's eyes narrowed. "Tell me. Now."

"She found her namesake's journals, the originals, along with a letter asking that they be read and published in their entirety," Yohji explained. "They were edited, Ran. Severely edited. Aya contacted me immediately and we've been preparing them for publication. I swear to you, you and Aya are about to become very, very rich."

Ran sat there in stunned silence as he listened to his cousin give a brief description of some of the contents and found himself absently agreeing to host a photographer for the weekend before closing his phone. It took a few minutes for everything to soak in then he was on his feet and charging out into the entrance hall.

"Aya!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

His sister didn't appear, but McNagg the butler did and he directed Ran out to the tennis courts. There he found her practicing her backhand against an automated server. He stomped onto the court and shut it off before facing his sister.

"Ran? What is it?" she asked. "You look like an enraged bull."

"Yohji Kudou just called," he stated. "Seems we're to have a photographer here this weekend."

"Already?" she asked smiling pleasantly, then her smile faded as his countenance didn't change. "He told you, didn't he? Damn. It was supposed to be a surprise," she said with a pout then her brow furrowed. "You don't seem as happy as I'd pictured you."

"You are correct. I am not happy," he snapped. "Aya, do you have any idea what you have done?"

"Apart from making us a small fortune and revealing a lost truth, no, I haven't," she answered.

"What lost truth? You have called into question the rightful inheritance of one of the oldest aristocratic families in the nation," Ran stated stepping closer to the net. "Your thoughtless actions could lose a family their entire fortune, title and lands. I don't want to save our estate at the cost of another!"

Aya let her racket fall to her side and moved forward with a worried frown.

"I was not being thoughtless," she said in defense. "I did exactly as Grand Duchess Aya said in her letter. I followed her wishes."

"What letter?" Ran demanded.

"It was with the journals," Aya replied. "She wanted her journals published in their entirety and the mystery solved."

"The mystery of Ren Hidaka's parentage," Ran said and Aya nodded. "You realize that the journals put the present Duke's claim to the title into question?"

"Yes, but that simply means we'll have to discover the truth," she said, her frown lightening. She took another step closer to the net and her brother. "It'll be a chance for you to renew your acquaintance."

Ran's angry frown turned confused. "My acquaintance?" he said. "With whom?"

"With the Duke of Hidaka, of course," she said.

Ran sighed and raked a hand through his hair leaving it stylishly mussed.

"I've never met the man, Aya. Or any of his offspring."

"Of course you have," she said with a shake of her head. "You had a fling with one of them. At school. Didn't you?"

Ran blinked at her for a full minute before realization came to him.

"Aya, that was Yuushi Knight. Formerly the Viscount of Ire, presently the Earl of Hamilton," he stated.

"Oh," she said.

"The present Duke of Hidaka is eighty-seven and has lived out of the country for nearly thirty years," Ran continued.

"Oh," she repeated. "Well, then I guess popping over to his estate and asking to view the family papers won't be so easy will it?" she asked with a nervous smile.

Ran gave her a cold stare and turned to go back up to the house.

"Where are you going?" Aya called after him.

"To telephone our lawyer and tell him to prepare for an incoming lawsuit," he yelled back without slowing.

Aya hopped on her toes for a moment before shooting off after him.

"Ran! Wait for me! Ran, we can fix this," she cried. "Ran, wait!"

Ken Hidaka sat behind the wheel of his jeep and tried to focus through the rain on the road ahead. In the back of the jeep were enough clothes and supplies to last him a week, and bouncing along behind on a trailer was his bike. Although he doubted he'd get enough time to ride it.

The dirt road leveled off and curved slowly to his left. Suddenly the trees left off and he was presented with a view straight down a hill to a large manor house he immediately recognized from photos. He could make out a small blue car parked in the lot out front and guessed it belonged to the steward.

As he continued down the hill and turned left into the driveway he briefly reviewed what his grandfather had sent him here to do. Find the original copy of the letter from the King. The letter rescinding the entailment of the estate and making John Henry Hidaka the legal heir of John Kenichi Hidaka, the fourth Duke. A copy of the letter was safely in the hands of his grandfather's attorneys but the firm had suggested, strongly, that they locate the original. If the line of inheritance was questioned they'd need the official seals on the letter to be verified, and a copy wasn't sufficient for that.

Ken shook his head and wondered how anyone could lose such a thing. If it had been him he'd have framed it, not left it safely tucked away inside a house he no longer occupied.

He parked the jeep in the open garage at the end of the courtyard in front of the manor then pulled on his hood and dashed out to bring in his bike. It was covered with a tarp, but he didn't fancy leaving it out in the weather anymore than necessary. Once that was done he made his way into the house. An elderly man met him in the front hall.

"You Ken?" he asked with a cautious squint.

"Yeah. Mr. Garret?" Ken replied and the old man nodded. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine, Sir," the man said, his suspicious nature melting into a welcoming smile and a warm handshake. "How was the flight, Sir? And the drive?"

"The flight was long," Ken said with an answering smile. "But the drive wasn't too bad. Except for the rain."

"Yes. It'll be a wet Fall this year, they're sayin'. Lucky your grandfather called me when he did, Sir. We were able to install a new furnace for ya, so at least you'll be warm," Mr. Garret said. "The old one worked well enough to keep the pipes from freezing, but that's about it. Know your way around, do you?"

"No," Ken shook his head. "I haven't been here since I was four or five."

"Well, not too much to it," Mr. Garret said. "Kitchen, servant's quarters, summer kitchen and conservatory downstairs, as well as access to the furnace room, Water heater's in there too. Up here are all the main rooms, bed rooms're upstairs, attics above them. That's about it."

Ken looked around the front hall, down the hall to his left, down the one to his right, and up the stairs across from him, then back at Mr. Garret.

"Plumbin's been updated. Electricity hasn't been worked on since your grandfather was livin' here, back when he and Lady Hidaka were in full residence with the kids. So that can be a bit touchy. The fuse box is at the foot of the stairs in the kitchen. I put out some new fuses just in case."

"Thanks," Ken said wondering at the brevity of the tour.

"My wife went through the place with two of our girls and gave it a good cleaning, but there's naught they can do about age to a building, Sir."

"No, there isn't."

"Buildings need people, Sir. That's what I tell your grandfather. Either live in it or sell it, I said. It's all well and good having me a half mile down the road, but that's not the same as a place being lived in."

"No, you're right," Ken nodded. "So, you're half a mile down the road?"

"Oh, yes, Sir. Back toward the village. I left our number by the phone in the study along with some mail that's come for you."

"Mail?" Ken asked in surprise. He wondered who it could be from. He'd only known he was coming a week ago.

"Yes, Sir. I've alerted the post mistress in the village that you'll be here, so she'll send letters along to you. There's a box by the drive."

"Yeah, I saw it."

"You have any luggage, Sir?" Mr. Garret asked. He was squinting again.

"Yeah, but I can get it," Ken smiled. "Just a suit case and some groceries."

"Oh, my wife left you a few things too. So, you should have plenty to eat, Sir. And she wanted me to invite you over to dinner tomorrow night if you're able."

Mr. Garret had begun moving back toward the front door in a very deliberate way and he began to pull a rain slicker on over the coat he was already wearing.

"That'd be great. Thank you," Ken said with a relieved smile. "I don't expect to see anyone, so the company will be welcome."

Mr. Garret nodded.

"Well, I'll be takin' my leave of ya, Sir. The road isn't very good and it's gettin' dark. Our number's by the phone and there's a directory too. Nice to meet you, Sir," he held out his hand again and Ken shook it. "Have a good night, Sir."

"You too. Drive carefully."

"Yes, Sir." And with that the steward was gone and Ken was left alone in the old manor.

"Hunh," he said looking around at the wide front hall, "that...was weird."

He pulled his hood back up and trotted out to the garage where he retrieved his suitcase and one bag of groceries. Two more trips and all the supplies were in just as the sky was really getting dark. He locked the front door and made his way down to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. When he was done squeezing his meager food stuffs into what little room was left beside Mrs. Garret's mammoth bounty he found his way to the study. As with the other rooms he'd peeked into, it was of a style and size from the distant past, but had been dragged into the mid-twentieth century by applying questionable cosmetics. Wallpaper, paint, and furniture that he was sure his grandmother had found charming in the fifties met him everywhere he looked. He was beginning to understand why had been squinting, and why he'd left as quickly as he could.

At least everything was clean, if a bit musty.

He sat down behind the wooden desk and made a mental note of the scrap of paper with Mr. Garret's name and number set beside the circa 1954 olive green phone. A small pile of letters was resting in the center of the leather desk mat, he picked them up and sorted through them.

The first was a note from his grandfather's lawyer saying that he was sending someone to help him search, an intern, and that they should be arriving in a day or two. The second was a postcard from the post mistress informing him that she'd be sending any mail he received to the house like Mr. Garret had said. The third was actually two letters that his grandfather had forwarded. He pulled them out of the envelope and frowned at the first one. It was from Royal Publishing.

"Your Grace,

"We gratefully request your permission to photograph portraits of your ancestors which are known to be housed on your estate. Please respond as soon as may be as we are about to go to press.

"Thank you in advance,

Sincerely,

Yohji Kudou

Royal Publishing"

"You've gotta be shittin' me," Ken muttered slapping the letter back down onto the desk. "Sorry for the heart attack, now can we photograph your house?" He snorted and picked up the other envelope. It bore the Fujimiya coat of arms in the upper corner and Ken narrowed his eyes at it before removing the letter.

"Dear Sir,

"Allow me to begin by apologizing for the unfortunate situation in which you now find yourself. Be assured that there was no malicious intent on our part, only thoughtless enthusiasm and short sighted good will. Had we foreseen the circumstances that would arise for you and your family the unedited version of the Grand Duchess's journals never would have seen the light of day.

"Also, allow me to offer whatever assistance we may be to you. My sister and I, as well as any of our staff, are at your immediate disposal. Please contact us at once if there is anything at all we can do.

"Again, please allow me to offer my most sincere apologies.

"Yours Truly,

Ran Fujimiya

Earl"

"Fuck you, Ran Fujimiya, Earl. If you wanna help why don't you drag your sorry ass over here and help me dig through this old pile of rocks!" Ken spat, slapping the letter down on top of the other one. Then he stopped and stared at it for a minute, a tiny smile beginning to form on his face. Yeah, why not? Since his grandfather refused to sue them, then the very least they could do was come over and help him search.

He picked up the letter and studied the phone number carefully written under the signature. Yeah, he could use some help sorting through the nasty, dirty, dusty old attic.