Mrs. Findley's Button Box (Private Keepsakes Book 1)

A Hidden Legacy, A Family Transformed

After the unexpected passing of Lulu Findley—the beloved matriarch of the Findley clan—her granddaughter Aura Hazelton returns to the family homestead alongside cousin Villie Quade. In the midst of shared grief, the two women uncover a mysterious newspaper clipping and an unmarked bank key tucked inside Lulu’s cherished button box. It’s a discovery that seems destined—left behind like a final breadcrumb trail.

As the family grapples with unraveling secrets buried for decades, one truth rises to the surface: the woman they all revered carried a private heartache no one ever suspected. Set against a backdrop of nostalgia and quiet revelations, MRS. FINDLEY’S BUTTON BOX is a tender, emotionally layered novella about grief, strength, and the unshakable bond of family. It explores what it means to reconcile love with truth—and whether healing is possible when foundations are shaken.

Begin the journey into the Private Keepsakes series with MRS. FINDLEY’S BUTTON BOX by Laverty Sparks.

Discover the secret that changed everything.

Excerpt from the book

The Impala Diner

The 1950s popular song “Volare” rang out from the overhead speakers in the Impala Diner. Aura Hazelton had chosen the sixty-seven-year-old song from the desktop jukebox on her table. But even Dean Martin’s crooning couldn’t soothe her mind.

She and her cousin, Villie Quade, sitting opposite in a booth, shared a butterscotch milkshake … and a conversation about their beloved grandmother Lulu. The elder’s funeral service had just ended one and a half hours earlier.

Aura’s dispirit couldn’t help but spill over into anguish. The family entity, the one person who held her maternal relation together, was gone. She tried to wedge the raw, recent memory of the memorial back into her mental archives, but only half achieved the effort. Since her grandmother’s death, she felt like an elusive butterfly with nowhere to land. Unsettled and unstable.

The women had stopped in the Missouri vintage restaurant, a holdover soda fountain from decades ago. Luckily, the establishment was still in operation after all these years. Few had fared so easily twenty-plus years after the millennium.

Recent owners of The Impala Diner had made great strides in enhancing the Route 66 diner of turquoises, pinks, and blacks. They filled the atmosphere with memorabilia of the fifties and sixties, even down to time-honored red and yellow squeeze bottles of ketchup and mustard, chrome napkin holders, glass fluted cups, and Melmac dinnerware.

Aura appreciated the good taste in decorating as she herself was an interior designer.

As the tune serenaded the cousin’s discussion, Aura wouldn’t consciously let moral support pass her by. Vulnerability auditioned for dominance in her mind.

“Can you believe Gloria’s outfit today?” Villie rolled her eyes and sipped on her straw. She referred to another of their maternal cousins. Her spirit level heightened the judgment. “How inappropriate for a wake.”

Aura heard the statements, but concentrated with tolerant interest on two teenagers across from them, a welcomed distraction. A trim, compact girl slung in a tuck-and-roll leather booth, looking too young to ever be tired, unplugged her earbuds and twirled them. Her blue hair reminded Aura of Grandma Lulu’s locks before she quit using her rinse. Yet, this gal’s hair looked as dry as cornstalks right before harvest.

The kids’ sputtering whispers claimed her wandering attention. Impossible not to hear, difficult not to listen. “This sucks…” the other juvenile unsympathetically offered into the grease-filled space. His hair was two-toned in shades of burgundy and black, feet thrust into high-top sneakers. “The old folks just don’t know good music.” The kids reveled in their glory.

Both had re-stashed their earpieces to alleviate the music, and perhaps reality. Was Aura envious of their technological advancements? Or pitiful for what they were missing out on?

In her opinion, the world had simply gotten too big, too fast. Its mind was upset, emotions unstable, and its nerves frazzled.

She knew the feeling all too well at this juncture.

“Aura?” Villie’s voice implicated tenderness. “Dear?” Her square chin tilted upward.

“No, I can’t fathom why she’d pick that outfit to wear today,” Aura finally answered, regarding their cousin, hoping her voice didn’t betray interest.