by M E Harmon
“Yeah, yeah. He was holding that old book to his chest like it was a long lost toy. What I don’t understand is how it got here.”
Jenna said, “Journal? Mom’s been looking for that all over. It’s for the auction, and it disappeared.”
Ethan frowned. “This was up for sale in the auction? Who donated it?”
“Well, now that I think about it, your uncle did,” Jenna rubbed a thumb over her pearls. “A day before his stroke, Max said he had some things for the auction. I picked up the box myself and that journal was inside.”
“I don’t know why he would’ve had this. It’s been in a trunk in my parent’s house for years. But anyway, I’d wager this was given by mistake.” Ethan took the book from Magnus, flipped through the pages, and probed the hidden section in the rear. Satisfied, he put the book into Magnus’ palm and said, “This may need to come off the block, but let me talk to my grandmother first.”
Magnus followed Ethan’s example and scrutinized the book. “Hmm. Seems your old man thinks a whole lot about this old thing.” He slapped it against his hand again and glanced at Rick. “Doesn’t answer how he ended up with it today.”
“I took my eyes off of him for a while,” Ethan answered, “Maybe he wandered into the house and picked it up then.”
Even to me, the explanation sounded fishy. Magnus squinted, possibly not buying it either, but he said nothing.
“Problem solved then,” Rick clapped his hands, “No harm, no foul. Let’s get Max up and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
As he and Ethan wrangled Max to his feet, I whispered to Jenna.
“Seems like you all have this under control. I’m going to go sit down. Maybe get some ice.”
Jenna gasped. “Oh no, did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” I answered while backpedaling. Max was gonna take the fall for the missing journal, but I wanted to have a little chit-chat with the real culprit.
Inconvenient Truth
6
“I know he’s your brother-in-law, but perhaps its time to get him a private nurse.” A lady patted a now seated Mrs. Plimpton’s hand as a squad of women clucked in concern.
I marched up to the table. “What exactly was your plan?”
A flurry of pastel hats turned in my direction. If a stare-down had sound, I would’ve gone deaf with the roar.
“Ladies, this is the woman who provided those sumptuous sticky buns today.” Mrs. Plimpton made a show of fanning herself with a hand.
I glared at the woman until she stole a glance at me. The fanning stopped, and she stuttered, “Ladies, c-c-could you all excuse us? I think Anna wants my input on a catering detail.”
The women sauntered off, albeit slowly. I folded my arms. “Were you going to let them accuse me so you could keep your secret?”
She wiped imaginary dust off her skirt. “I’m not sure what you are talking about, young lady.”
I pointed behind me. “Do you really think they aren’t going to put two and two together and figure out that man couldn’t have taken the journal from the house?”
She glanced in the direction I pointed. I don’t know what exactly was happening, but Mrs. Plimpton’s eyes fixed on someone behind us. She shivered. “I, I was at a loss. I made a mistake, that’s all. I went for the viewing, picked it up, and later I just found it in my pocket.”
I made a conscious effort not to snort then slapped the envelope with the tintype on the table. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s what happened. I found a bidding card in the trash, and didn’t think anything about it until something from the auction went missing.”
“I had no intention of taking it.”
“That card was registered to you, Mrs. Plimpton. Then I almost broke my neck when I slipped on that leaving the house.” I gestured with my chin at the envelope, “At the time I just thought someone dropped it. No big deal.”
I folded my arms. “Any other day I might have glanced at it and given it to Mrs. Carter to find the owner. But because of the theft, I paid a little more attention to the contents.” I paused, hesitant. Yeah, this woman was fine with making me a possible accomplice, and I was plenty ticked off about that. But what I was about to broach was a very old and volatile subject. “You have her cheekbones,” I said after a few seconds.
To my surprise, Mrs. Plimpton pressed a palm over her lips as if she was about to cry. I prayed to the Gods she wouldn’t get all hysterical. My patience was too thin at the moment.
Behind us, Ethan and Anna slowly walked Max back towards the seating area. Magnus and Rick headed towards the house. I couldn’t tell by their faces, but maybe the truth wasn’t going to come out after all.
I turned back around. Mrs. Plimpton gently stroked the envelope with the tip of a finger. “Thank you,” she whispered, “My grandmother was so pretty. I always liked hearing I resembled her. I left the south when I was sixteen and this,” she tapped the envelope, “was one of the few things I packed in my pathetic little brown suitcase with the holes. I came north and no one up here knew what I really was. Then I met my husband, and I guess I should’ve thrown it away. And I almost did, many times. But every time I saw her face, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I found a secret place, buried it in some old forgotten trunk in the back of the attic.”
She stopped long enough to pull a wadded up tissue from a pocket. Mrs. Plimpton dabbed her eyes. “I had forgotten all about that old tintype. No, maybe that’s not right. I didn’t let myself think about the picture. But when I saw that journal out in the open, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. I only meant to take the picture, almost had it out but then I heard someone coming so I stowed it all in my purse...” Her voice trailed off.
“You panicked,” I finished for her. “And ran out the door that connects to the kitchen.”
“Yes, if someone saw me, I’d just say I went to use the ladies room. But I was trembling, and almost broke my neck when I slipped on something in the kitchen and everything in my purse spilled all over the floor. It was a mess in there, and all I could think was get out of here, get out now. Much later I realized I had dropped the picture. I didn’t even think about the bidding card.”
After the rush of words, Mrs. Plimpton’s shoulders drooped. “I’m not a thief. I had no intention of stealing anything.”
Ethan and Jenna walked up to the table with Max Plimpton between them. The older man was calm again as if nothing had happened.
As he settled Max into a chair, Ethan said, “What was that, Gran?”
Mrs. Plimpton stiffened. “Nothing dear.”
“I overheard something about stealing,” Ethan said pulling out a chair for Jenna, then sat down himself. “Is this about the journal? Jenna and I couldn’t figure out how Max got his hands on it. I’m sure he didn’t go anywhere near the house though I just lied and told Rick Carter and Magnus Donovan otherwise. I’ve been watching him like a hawk today, and he didn’t have this book before he pushed past you. What’s your name again?” Ethan said, looking at me.
“Ali. Ali Daniels, baker.”
He continued, “When he pushed past you and Ali Daniels, baker. And you’ve been acting odd all afternoon. What’s going on, Gran?”
Everyone else busied themselves chatting or eating. More people ventured to the dance floor as the DJ changed up the music.
Jenna eyed the nearby tables. “Ethan, maybe we should go to a quiet corner in the house to talk about this.”
Ethan nodded, but Mrs. Plimpton raised her hand. “No, no,” she said, “The last thing I want to do is get Magnus and Dorrick all riled up. It’s best this stay with family. I, um, I made a mistake. I didn’t know your uncle had donated that old soldier’s journal, and inside of it was something of a personal nature I felt compelled to retrieve.”
“Gran—”
“No, let me finish, Ethan. I should’ve just come to you or Jenna or Anna, but you know I’m an extremely private person, and I just knew I could take care of it on my
own. Instead I caused a huge fuss and-and I’m just mortified.”
“Gran, are you talking about that old metal photograph that was tucked in the back of the journal?”
Mrs. Plimpton’s head jerked back and her mouth fell open. “What? You knew?”
Ethan put an arm around her chair. “Yes. I used to play in the attic all the time as a kid. I found that picture years ago, and I never thought twice about it until a few years ago.” He grabbed her hand. “A while back I did one of those ancestor DNA tests. You know, they offer them online now. The test reveals where your ancestors come from. I expected to see links to U.K., like England or Ireland. Gran, stop looking so scared, it’s all right. Anyway, my results revealed some markers I didn’t expect. African. I had African ancestors. I was surprised, but hey, this is America, and Plimptons have been here since before the American Revolutionary War, and who knows who made a baby with whom.
So, on this website, you can post pictures of your relatives and connect to people with similar DNA markers as you. In other words, you can meet family you didn't know you had. And one day, when I was searching through photos posted by someone with the same genetic markers as me, I found a picture of the same lady in that photo I used to peek at as a kid. After some researching I figured out she was your grandmother. My great-great-grandmother.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Ethan shrugged and smiled, “It was your secret to tell or not tell. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“Oh, Ethan. You’ve always been such a good boy.” Mrs. Plimpton patted his cheek then looked sheepishly at Jenna then at me.
“Don’t worry, Jenna knows, and I’ve sworn her to secrecy. And as for our baker here...?”
The baker was done with this little drama. I wanted to point out how mentally, emotionally, and spiritually damaging it was to live a lie for decades and carrying that amount of deep shame and self- denigration manifests in the most unexpected of ways, —but I didn’t waste my time. To someone like Mrs. Plimpton, my words would’ve been noise lost on the breeze.
I finally said, “Sure, your secret is safe with me.” Then I pivoted on my heel and stormed off craving something sweet to settle my nerves.
Fallout
7
Two mojitos later I felt much better. The auction proceeded without any more mishaps. The journal did go up on the auction block and sparked a tiny bidding war. Dorrick Carter won after making it very clear he wasn’t backing down. My mom even purchased a pair of antique goblets.
Mr. Chapman, the auctioneer, had been very entertaining. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming today. I received a request, and we have one more piece of business to tend to today and then we can all hit the dance floor. Would Ethan Plimpton and Jenna Carter please come to the podium?”
We all watched as a smiling Ethan pulled a confused looking Jenna to the stage. By then, an excited tittering made its way through the crowd.
When Ethan went to one knee, Anna Carter, standing on the sidelines, squealed, bouncing on her toes.
And just that quickly I could see my ex-fiance’s face, Jared, when he went down on one knee to propose.
Then next thing I knew, Ethan was twirling a tearful Jenna around in his arms.
I leaned over and said to my mother, “I’m gonna need another drink.”
***
My mother, Bitsie, and I were making our way to the car when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I stopped and turned to see Mrs. Plimpton.
“Young lady, may I speak with you?”
Despite every petty instinct to say no, I nodded.
She watched and waited until Mom and my aunt had moved out of earshot. “I owe you an apology. I found myself in a bind and without thinking involved you in my misdeed. And for that I’m very sorry.”
A laugh worked its way up my throat. I chuckled aloud thinking it was silly to stifle anything at this point. Though, I think the last mojito helped to loosen my lips. “Mrs. Plimpton, out of all the people here today, why did you choose me? Hmm?”
She reared back as if surprised by the bite in my tone. “I-I-I don’t know. You were the first person to come up to me I guess.”
“No, your society friends were around you most of the day. What you mean is, I was the first black person that came up to you. In fact my mother and I were the only people of color attending this event today.
You saw my face, and thought I was the perfect scapegoat to finish off your dirty deed. If I got caught, so what? In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising, right? Someone like me stealing? Or was it you suddenly felt some kinship in your time of need?”
“No, certainly not. I’m not—” she paused and her voice trailed off.
I snorted loudly, attracting the eyes of some other guests leaving. “What? You’re not like me? Mrs. Plimpton, I get it. You were born in a different time, and you used the best tools at your disposal to have a good life. I accept your apology. You’ve been passing for so long, you don’t know how lost you really are. Have a good evening.”
With that, I started off again for the car. My family was waiting inside the SUV when I climbed in. I pulled the door shut with a groan and gratefully sank into the seat cushion.
Earlier, when the dance floor opened up, Bitsie and my mother had taken it over and became the belles of the auction. They’d missed out on the drama with Max and me. I hadn’t yet told them everything that had happened.
After I filled them in, my mother said, “From the moment Mrs. Plimpton snubbed us, I knew I didn’t like that woman. She’ll find out that the only thing secret about a secret is how many people know about it.”
As Francois started the car, someone knocked on the rear window making us all jump.
“Ali? I’m so glad I caught you!”
It was Jenna all happy and glowy from
engagement-ring-itis. Mrs. Plimpton had worn off the edges of my pleasant mojito buzz but seeing the happy-bride-to-be snapped me fully back to sober.
Despite that, I rolled down the window and fixed a pleasant expression on my face, “Hey, Jenna, congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “Listen, Ethan leaves for a new job overseas in eight weeks, and we want to get married before then. We both loved your cinnamon rolls. Will you cater our events?”
“Events?”
Jenna nodded, “Yeah, we’re short on time, but my Mom is super traditional. There’ll be a rehearsal dinner, bridal shower, and the wedding of course.”
Green dollar signs popped into being above Jenna’s head. I blinked the image away. “Um, Jenna, I’m flattered. My shop does sweets and sandwiches, so we may not be the best choice for all of those...”
“Oh, I know, I know. Beatrice told us what you specialize in, and we can work things out.”
My run-in with Mrs. Plimpton soured me on the idea of any future dealings with the older woman. She was Ethan’s grandmother, a part of the family. If I said yes, running into her again might be inevitable. I looked past Jenna to eye the tent area where Mrs. Plimpton likely socialized.
Jenna followed my line of sight, then grabbed my hand. “Ethan got the full truth out of his grandmother after you left. She put you in a horrible position. Ethan and I both apologize for that. You won’t have to deal with her at all. If you say yes, you’ll be saving me oodles of time having to find a bakery to make my wedding cake.”
Who can deny someone who says oodles? “Ok, then, yes, I’ll do it.”
She clapped her hands. “I’ll call the shop first thing in the morning, and we can talk details.”
We swapped contact information, and then she literally skipped away.
Fifteen minutes later, we were well on our way out of New Rochelle. As the lights of the Triborough Bridge came into view I interrupted my mother and aunt’s chatter.
“Aunt Bitsie, should I have said yes to Jenna?”
“Of course, dear, it’s business.” She le
aned over and patted my knee. “And once you’re in with this crowd, you have it made. Perhaps you’ll be able to open that second location you’ve been dreaming about.”
Yeah, maybe, I thought. Then decided to let my doubts go. So what if the day had been full of drama and secrets? It ended with me scoring a new account that could lead to, oodles of more business.
Manhattan’s skyline slowly revealed itself as the SUV brought us closer. I settled back, admiring the pinpricks of light coming from thousands of windows.
The doubt must’ve still been on my face. Mom gave me a soft jab to the ribs. “Buck up kid, after today, what else could happen?”
She was right. What else could happen?
We’ll see.
From the Author
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