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At seventy-four, I thought I was just paying to fix my leaky roof — never expecting it to change my life. I’m Evelyn, a widow for nearly ten years, living alone in the house my late husband, Richard, and I shared. My days were quiet, filled with gardening and volunteering, until one day a crew came to repair the roof. Among them was Joseph — polite, kind, and unlike the others.
During the repairs, they discovered an old wooden box in the attic. I recognized it immediately — Richard’s, meant for me to open “when the time felt right.” The men argued about keeping it, but Joseph refused and brought it to me. Inside were cash and gold Richard had saved.
Joseph’s honesty touched me deeply. I reported the others and grew close to him. Now, he visits often, filling my home with laughter — the family I thought I’d lost forever.
