A/N: The idea for this story came up rather spontaneously. I'm not quite sure how far I'll go with it but it should at least last a few chapters.

The doorbell rang and Caitlin went to answer it. She stood face to face with an unfamiliar woman wearing black dress pants and a plaid blouse. Her face looked red as if she had been crying for a short time. She asked, "Are you Caitlin Rhode?"

"Yes that is me, can I help you?" Caitlin asked.

"My name is Margaret; I believe you knew my husband, Thereon Vander?"

"Thereon, yes I remember him. What do you mean by knew?"

"He died…of a heart condition…only just last week," she replied solemnly.

Caitlin and Margaret talked for a while. Bits of conversation about how they remembered him. Caitlin would talk about when she first met him in high school and throughout college. And Margaret about the time they first met.

"Yeah, I remember back in High school, we didn't really start talking until junior year because I was so shy but then senior year was amazing. After we all graduated, I kept in touch with several friends including him. I would send him letters every so often and he'd occasionally write back. Hehe, I remember the time he was in the hospital over the summer before senior year. I wasn't used to that even though he'd talked about it before and mentioned the times he'd been there before. I suppose I sounded worried a lot because I remember him saying to me, 'I'm not gonna die' in that cynical tone…" Caitlin trailed off and looked at the former wife.

"Actually," Margaret began, "I should probably tell you the real reason I'm here. I'm here because you're in his will," she stated bluntly, handing her a blue sweatshirt containing an elaborate black design on the front and the sleeves. "I kept telling him to get rid of this old thing but he insisted on keeping it. I believe it's one of his old high school worn sweatshirts."

"I remember this," Caitlin began to stroke the hoodie gently before she realized what she was doing and stopped abruptly. "When's the funeral?"

"Wha..what?" Margaret stuttered. "Oh, the funeral? We haven't had it yet," her eyes became shifty at the mention of it. "I suppose next week."

Margaret took Caitlin to the house in order to show her the will," This is it. The will." Margaret handed her the document and went upstairs, beckoning Caitlin to follow her. "This was his study, or at least that's what I call it." She continued, showing Caitlin into a small room filled with bookshelves, a desk, and many notebooks scattered throughout.

She shuffled through the drawers until she came upon a small chest. "This was said to go to you as well."

Caitlin grabbed the sides of the medium sized chest, it was heavier than it looked, and placed it on the bed next to the desk to open it. The first thing she came across after she opened it was a short letter.