I was already on the second floor when I heard about the box

“But Auntie, I can’t come for the Easter parade,” Aaron said. “I have other plans that weekend.”

Aunt Wilhelmina sat across the bedroom at her vanity, admiring her new wig. Aaron thought it made her look like Ruth Buzzi playing the old lady on Laugh-in. She arranged silver brushes and mirrors on the vanity.

“And just what plans are those, Aaron Aloysius Aardvark, that are more important? I’ve sponsored the town parade twenty years now and this will be the first since your parents died you don’t attend.”

He couldn’t tell her about Johannesburg. Nelson Mandela’s presidential inauguration had taken place in 1994 and Aaron wanted to be there for it. It would be relatively little strain on the rickety time machine to go back eighteen years.

“My boss is sending me to New York on business that week,” he lied, trying to think fast. “I won’t be back until the middle of the week.”

“That’s a shame. I was planning on giving you something special for Easter. I won’t tell you what, just that it’s so important, it must be kept in a secure box.”

Ka-ching. Aaron had to think even faster. Which was more important, one of the most historic transfers of power in world history or Aunt Wilhelmina’s largesse? And then he decided.

“I’ll see what I can do.”