Betty asked the neighbor to come and cut the lock off the wrought iron gate leading down the side of the house. She told him we would need to open the gates on Saturday for the reception. He asked her where the keys were and she gave them to him all the while stating they didn't work. The neighbor slid the key into the keyhole and smooth as butter, click! The lock opened.
It just seemed as if something kept us from opening the lock that day so Steve would see his home for the last time as they wheeled his stretcher out the door.
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