Inherited House

"My wife, Sarah, and I have been married for ten years. We have a good life. A quiet life. I'm a carpenter, and she's a librarian. We’re not rich, but we're happy. Then came the letter. A lawyer's letter, informing Sarah that she had inherited a house. The house of her estranged Uncle Charles, a man she barely knew. It's a grand old place, a bit neglected, sitting on a couple of acres on the edge of town. Sarah was always a little sad about not knowing her uncle, and she saw this as a chance to finally feel connected to that side of her family. We decided to move in. A fresh start. A new project for me. The house needs a lot of work, and I've been spending my days tearing down old walls, pulling up rotten floorboards, and breathing new life into the place. The other day, I was working in the study, a room Uncle Charles used as his office. The walls were lined with old books and his journals. While I was pulling up a floorboard to fix a squeak, I noticed a small, hidden compartment underneath. I reached in and pulled out a stack of old, leather-bound diaries. They were covered in dust, tied with a fraying piece of string.