by Marja McGraw
On Saturday morning I arose early. I’d invited Pete to join me for breakfast. I was going to impress him with my culinary skills before we got to work in the yard.
At seven-thirty I heard a knock and, wiping my hands on a towel, walked to the front door to let Pete in.
“Good morning.” He gave me a quick kiss and a tight, one-armed hug.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at a grocery bag he was carrying.
“It’s for dinner. I told you I wanted to do the barbequing, remember?”
“Sure, but I already bought steaks. I didn’t mean for you to supply the food.”
“I brought my own ingredients for this barbeque,” he said, grinning at me with a silly expression on his face. “You can make a salad and whatever else you want, but I’ll take care of the main course.”
“What is it?”
“Wait and be surprised.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. I hated surprises, especially when it came to food.
Reaching in the bag, he pulled out a bottle of wine. “This is to celebrate your new role as an almost homeowner.” He walked back to the kitchen and put his surprise, along with the wine, in the refrigerator.
We had crepe pancakes, bacon, perfectly prepared fluffy scrambled eggs and melon for breakfast. About the time I was cleaning up, Stanley arrived, and ten minutes later my mother and Frank showed up. Everyone was rested and ready to work, and we paraded out to the back yard.
“Stan, can you help me for a minute?” Pete asked.
“Certainly. What would you like me to do?”
“Come with me.” Pete led Stanley out to the front of the house.
“Okay,” I said to my mother and Frank, “let’s rake this yard so we can see what there is to work with under the dried leaves. It’s hard to tell what needs to be done right now.”
Mother and I picked up rakes and began scraping leaves into piles. Frank took it upon himself to pull overgrown weeds and add those to the pile, and asked if I had any trash bags to put the leaves in.
“They’re in the kitchen,” I said. “Under the sink.”
“Where did Stanley and Pete go?” Frank asked.
“I’m not sure. They walked out front.” I pointed in that general direction.
Hearing a noise, we all turned around.
“Pete! What did you do?” I asked.
“Well, you can’t have a barbeque without a table and benches, can you?” He and Stanley were carrying an old-fashioned wooden picnic table across the yard. “It belongs right here, under this oak tree.” The two men set it down and turned back to the house. “Be right back with the benches.”
“I’ll help.” Frank followed them around the house.
I glanced at my mother and she was beaming. “Like I’ve said before, your Pete is so thoughtful. Maybe I’ll be cuddling grandchildren yet.”
“Mother.” I glanced around to be sure Pete hadn’t heard her.
After the benches were in place, Pete brought the barbeque I’d bought out from the garage and set it up.
“Okay, back to business,” I said. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling very emotional and needed to work it off.
We raked and bagged leaves, pulled weeds and examined plants. Some of the plants were dead and needed to be pulled up. Others were in near perfect condition. Rose bushes lined the backside of the house, and there was a row of some kind of bushes along the side of the yard and along the back property line. I didn’t know enough about plants to identify much other than the roses, but the bushes along the side were still in good condition, other than needing to be shaped. Actually, everything had been growing wild and needed to be shaped or pruned, except for the ones along the back, which were dead.
I’d surveyed the general layout of the backyard and seeing the dead bushes, I’d stopped at the nursery and bought some replacements on Friday. We dug up all of the old dead bushes and planted three of the new ones. While we were doing that, Stanley took charge of the pruning shears and began working on the other bushes.
“Let’s take a break and eat.” I’d gone into the house for some water and noticed it was two o’clock. I figured everyone ought to be pretty hungry. I’d said something to Pete and he’d already fired up the barbeque.
“Good idea, I’m ready for a good steak,” Stanley said.
“I don’t know what we’re having, Stan. Pete brought his own meat and won’t tell me what it is,” I replied.
“Need any help?” Frank turned to Pete.
“I can always use help.” Pete waved Frank and Stanley over and began making preparations for cooking.
The three men clustered around the barbeque with beers in hand while my mother and I sat at the picnic table and chatted.
“Where do you think this relationship with Pete is going?” she asked.
“Honestly, Mom, that’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Aren’t you too tired to worry about this?”
“I’m never too tired, but I’ll let it go – for now.”
“You’re not going to argue with me?” I was incredulous.
“Not unless I run out of hormone pills,” she said sweetly. Mother was mellowing out. Would wonders never cease?
Stanley walked over to the table. “Sandi, why don’t you go ahead and bring out the salad and whatever else you’re serving? Pete said dinner is just about ready.”
“Good. And we’re having a pasta salad with garlic bread,” I said. “It’ll only take a minute to get the bread ready. All I have to do is stick it under the broiler.”
“Okay.” Stanley wandered over to rejoin the men.
My nose started to twitch. I turned to my mother. “Do you smell what I smell?”
“Fish,” we said in unison.
“Oh no, Pete, you didn’t.” I remembered his fishing trip with trepidation.
“I did, and you’re gonna love it.”
And I did. I don’t know what he did to that fish, but it was one of the tastiest meals I’d ever eaten. I couldn’t place the spices I was savoring with each bite.
“I’m too full and too tired to do any more work,” Mother said when we were done eating.
I was tired myself. “It’s getting late anyway. Let’s just relax and I’ll plant the last few bushes tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me,” Pete said. “I’ll come over and help you.”
I savored that afternoon, sitting in my own yard, enjoying my family, for I considered Pete and Stanley family, too. I didn’t give one thought to Vincente, or the treasure. Well, maybe a brief thought passed by.
Eventually everyone left, except Pete. Mother and Frank were flying home to Chicago in a few days to tie things up there and make the move to Arizona. Stanley said he was “craving” a day of rest.
Pete and I talked until late. Just talked, enjoying each other’s company. I realized that my mother was right; Pete and I complemented each other. I smiled at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m just enjoying you. I love you, Pete.”
“Good. I love you, too, Sandi.”
A long while later, Pete drove home. He needed a change of clothes and wanted to stop at the office before returning to help plant bushes.
I was already up and finishing breakfast when the phone rang the next morning.
“Sandi, I’m not going to be there until around noon,” Pete said.
“Oh?”
“I stopped at the office and there was a message on the machine from one of the insurance companies. They want me to pick up some papers on a new case. Even though it’s Sunday, someone will be there. After that I’m gonna run a couple of errands.”
“Guess I’ll see you when you get here then.”
I cleaned up my breakfast dishes and picked up the work gloves I’d been using for yard work. I could go ahead and start planting the bushes while I waited for Pete. I didn’t need him to do this for me.
I was humming to myself as I planted the first two remaining b
ushes. We’d dug up all of the dead ones. It was a beautiful morning, and the temperatures were expected to be high later in the day.
After moving to the next hole in the ground, I studied it and decided it needed to be deeper. Setting my trowel aside, I walked to the garage, returning with my shovel. I was glad I’d made the purchase when I bought my gardening tools.
I put the spade in the hole and stamped on the edge with my foot, trying to send it deep into the ground. Wouldn’t you know, I hit a rock a couple of inches down.
“Huh.” I started scraping the dirt off the rock, trying to see how big it was and how much work it would be to get it out.
There was no rock! It was a metal box. I began digging frantically. I used my hands to move dirt away and discovered there was another one underneath.
“Sandi. What are you doing?” Pete strolled around back from the side of the house, hands in his pockets.
“Pete! You weren’t supposed to be here ’til noon. Never mind, I’m glad you’re here. You can help me.”
“I finished early. Of course I’ll help you, that’s why I came over. What’s the big deal?”
“I think I’ve found it. Hurry up and help me.” I was panting, unaware of how hot it had become.
“Honey, your face is red. You’re too hot. You stop and rest, and I’ll bring you a glass of water.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I think I’ve found it.”
“Found what?” Pete glanced at the hole in the ground, studied it for a moment, and turned back to me. “Oh.” He grinned and reached for my shovel. “Go get yourself a drink of water. I’ll take care of this.”
Ha! You couldn’t drag me away with a tow truck. “You don’t need the shovel. I’ve almost uncovered them by myself.”
“I can see that.” Pete set the spade aside and scooped dirt out of the hole. He gripped the top container and pulled it up, setting it beside the pile of soil that had accumulated. He reached in and moved more of the crumbling earth before he pulled out the second box.
I held my breath and tried to open one of them with shaking hands. The catch was stuck, probably from resting in the ground for so long.
“Pete, I need a hammer. It won’t open.”
He disappeared for a minute and returned with the tool. Pushing me out of the way, he struck at the latch, and the rusting piece fell away. He moved out of my way so I could lift the lid.
My mouth fell open and my heart pounded. I could feel my blood pressure rising and I had an odd desire to scream. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the gold coins lying so snuggly in the metal container. The box was packed.
“Open the other one.” Pete spoke slowly, expectancy sounding in his hushed voice.
“You do it. I don’t know if I can handle another box like this one.” I started to giggle, a nervous sound that came in little spurts – much like my heartbeat.
Pete stood quietly for a moment, contemplating the other box. What was probably five seconds felt like long minutes as he rubbed his hands together. I turned my back, unable to watch.
“Pete! Just open the box. Even if there isn’t any more money in it, it doesn’t matter. There’s plenty for me and my mother and my aunt in this one.”
“I want to savor the moment.”
“Well, quit savoring and start opening. The suspense is killing me.”
The lid didn’t stick and he lifted it, revealing more gold and some silver coins.
I giggled uncontrollably. Pete looked at me and laughed. The laughter turned into a roar as he placed a gleaming piece of my future in my hand.
“The first thing I need to do is see a coin dealer,” I said.
“The first thing you need to do is take these coins to the bank and put them in a safety deposit box.” Pete picked up one of the boxes and headed for the house. “The second thing you need to do is contact an attorney.”
“Pete, the treasure was my great-great-great-grandfather’s. It’s my inheritance.” That was my story and I was sticking to it.
He set the box on the back porch and linked his arm with mine as we turned to retrieve the other box. “Don’t you think you should find out for sure? Trust me on this and just make a call to an attorney. Besides, this is your mother’s property now.”
Pete was right. I knew in my heart that he was looking out for my best interests. I needed to do this the right way. After I talked to my mother, I’d pose my questions to the attorney as a hypothetical situation, and then I could decide what I wanted to do.
I squeezed Pete’s arm as I studied the gold coin in my hand. I had a feeling my future had just turned a corner.
About the Author
Marja McGraw is originally from Southern California, where she worked in both criminal and civil law enforcement for several years.
Relocating to Northern Nevada, she worked for the Nevada Department of Transportation. Marja also lived in Oregon where she worked for the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office and owned her own business, a Tea Room/Antique store. After a brief stop in Wasilla, Alaska, she returned to Nevada. She’s also worked for a library and a city building department.
Marja wrote a weekly column for a small newspaper in No. Nevada and she was the editor for the Sisters in Crime Internet Newsletter for a year and a half. She’s appeared on television in Nevada, and she’s also been a guest on various radio and Internet radio shows.
She writes the Sandi Webster Mysteries and the Bogey Man Mysteries, and says that each of her mysteries contains “a little humor, a little romance and A Little Murder!”
She currently resides in Arizona with her husband, where life is good.
Website : http://www.marjamcgraw.com/
Blog: http://blog.marjamcgraw.com/