by Amy Isaman
The little girl groaned, paused her game and joined us at the kitchen table. “When’s the pizza coming? I’m hungry.”
“Soon. You know it always takes forever to get out here.” Carly slid the key across the table toward her daughter. “Have you ever seen this key or a coin that looks like that? Maybe in Daddy’s truck?”
Kat picked the key up and looked at it, her face serious. “Is this—” Her voice caught as she tried to swallow back a sob. “Daddy’s key?”
“Yeah. It’s Daddy’s. He gave it to Tricia last night. Do you know what it opens?”
Kat shook her head and swiped at her tears with her forearm. She set it back down on the table and pointed to the coin. “But that part kinda looks like your jewelry stuff.”
“It does, a bit, doesn’t it?”
I glanced at Carly.
“I make jewelry, sell it at craft fairs. I rarely work in gold, but that’s what Kat’s talking about.”
I nodded, and we sat silently staring at the key on the table when headlights lit up the front window.
“Finally,” Kat yelled as she ran to the door.
A half-hour later, I swiped my fingers on a napkin and slid my plate away. I hadn’t felt at all hungry until I smelled the pizza and my mouth started watering. The pizza was surprisingly good with a thin, crispy crust that hadn’t been completely buried in goopy cheese and toppings. I ate my fair share, but Carly barely downed a portion of one piece. Grief did that. It took up residence in your gut, so there wasn’t room for anything else, even food.
“So… do you have gold coin jewelry?” I asked.
“What? Coin jewelry?” Carly looked at me in confusion.
“Yeah. Kat said that this coin looked like your jewelry stuff.”
“Oh, right. No, she meant the jewelry that I make. It started out as a hobby, but it’s turned into a good little side income. Keeps me out of trouble, too.”
I remembered that Carly was artistic. In class, I was always reading during spare moments and she spent her spare time sketching and drawing. I’d totally forgotten that.
“Do you design it all yourself?”
She nodded. “I do. I mostly make earrings and pendants. Sometimes rings, but sizing them can be a bitch. And I almost always work in silver, as it’s more affordable, though occasionally I’ll save up for some gold to work with. It’s honestly saved me since Alex. I’ll show you.” She pushed her chair back from the table, and I followed her down the narrow hallway. She pushed open the first door on the left and entered a small bedroom. A twin bed filled one corner of the room, and tables lined the rest of the walls. Under the tables were plastic containers holding what I thought might be beads. Spools of wire, a variety of pliers, and even hammers were tucked into a canvas panel that had pockets and loops for holding it all.
“Wow.” I turned in a circle and took in the space. “This is… amazing.” I thought she’d have a table with some beads on it, but this was a full-on artist’s studio. The wall above her work bench was covered in sketches of possible pieces, but the walls above the bed were papered in close-ups of hands and faces, or still life drawings.
“I feel close to Alex when I work in here.” She waved her hand toward the wall above the bed. “These are all his drawings. He had talent.” She pointed to a series of close-ups of hands and faces drawn in pencil and some in charcoal. Eyes and hands were some of the hardest things to draw, and he’d done these well.
“He drew those once he got to the high school. They have a wonderful art teacher there who really worked with him and pushed him.”
“These drawings of Kat are sweet.” I pointed to another series that had different angles of Kat when she was probably six or seven. There were two profiles and one of her from the front with a big smile.
Carly nodded. “They were really close.” She turned away and swiped at her eyes. “Here’s where I store my pieces.” She pulled a plastic box from under one of the tables and took off the lid. It was full of silver pieces attached to little cards that said “Carly Baker Studio” in a swirly font. There were a variety of earrings, bracelets, and pendants in a bold style with large stones embedded in them. Some I would even call rustic—they looked like stalactites that hung from a cave with rough edges but some uniformity, kind of like Carly.
“Carly, this is beautiful work. I, shoot, I’d carry this in my shop in San Francisco. I thought you strung some beads together or something. Where did you learn to do this? You’re a true silversmith.”
She smiled. “I’ve been able to take a few classes here and there. My dream would be to quit the school and do this full time, but that won’t happen. We need the benefits. When I retire, though, this is what I’ll do. It keeps me sane.” She reached down and pulled out another small tub. “Occasionally, if I do well at an event, I can afford to buy some gold.” The tub held a handful of gold pieces in the same style as the silver, but smaller. “I can’t even imagine what I could do if we did find that gold. And if Frank had it this whole time, knowing that I can make jewelry and sell it for so much more, why wouldn’t he have given some to me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know. But they would have value as antique coins or gold bars or whatever they were. That would add to their value above and beyond the price of gold.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right. And when they first found the stash, or supposedly found it, because it vanished right away, I’d just started to get into jewelry making. At that point, I was just stringing beads and using wire, and I hadn’t started hammering and torching the metal to shape it as I want it. It didn’t occur to me to set aside any of what he brought home initially. I didn’t know what this would become. And, I don’t know what he did with that gold either. I assumed he cashed it in on his hauls and gambled it away. I didn’t ask because if I knew for sure, it would just piss me off. As long as he helped pay the bills, which he did, I didn’t really worry about it. But shit, maybe he’s got a fortune stashed in a safe-deposit box somewhere.” She rubbed her face with her hands.
“Well, it couldn’t hurt to make a few calls to see if there’s a bank nearby that has safe deposit boxes. Right?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t feel like something Frank would do. I mean, hide gold in a bank? He was too paranoid for that. He obviously had something hidden somewhere. But what bank? And how do I get access to it? If he’d gotten a secret bank account, there’s no way my name’s on it.”
“Well, I think if there’s a will, you would have access, wouldn’t you? Would he have given it to you? Or maybe as his wife, with a death certificate you can access it, but I honestly have no idea. That’s a question for a lawyer. Or the bank.”
“Oh, this is a nightmare. A safe deposit box could be anywhere in the country. He was a long-haul driver. I have no idea how to track it down. But I can’t think about this anymore tonight. I’m exhausted.”
I reached over and squeezed her arm. “No need to think about it tonight. I’ll get going.” I headed toward the kitchen and wrote my cell down on a notepad for her. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll probably stop by in the next day or two to check on you.”
“Well, when I figure out this key, if I ever do, I’ll let you know. Thanks for bringing it over.”
The evening’s events swirled in my brain as I drove back to my mom’s house. Anne had made that cryptic comment about Carly liking married men. Had something happened with Carly and Brian? Or another friend? Small town gossip and drama made me want to turn my car south and head back to California, but I couldn’t do that yet. My mom still needed me.
But at least I’d given Carly the key, and that whole situation was taken care of. She could find her safe-deposit box and hopefully some peace of mind along with it. Mike and Brian could find whoever killed Frank. And I could take care of my mom and focus on my own business ventures.
I parked in the driveway but didn’t see Anne’s car on the street. Only my niece Madi’s little hatchback. I hoped my visiting Carly wa
sn’t going to turn into some big sister drama. But at least Mom hadn’t been alone. I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and got out, only to hear the front door shut. A tense and unsmiling Madi heading my way.
She stopped in front of me and crossed her arms.
“Hey, what’s up? How’s Grandma?” I asked, keeping my voice as light as possible. Something was going on, but what?
“Where have you been?” Madi demanded.
“I was at an old friend’s house. Why?”
“Was it Alex’s mom’s house?”
“Yep.” I stared at her, unflinching. No way was I going to justify my actions to a sixteen-year-old.
Madi lowered her eyebrows and glared at me. “I can’t believe you would do that to my mom. No wonder she’s upset. You’re such a…”
She stopped herself from calling me a bitch—but barely.
“You should just go back to San Francisco. We don’t need you here. You’re just making everything worse.” She swiped at tears and stormed past me toward her car.
I stared after her, my mouth open like a fish gasping for air on the bank. What the heck was that about? I knew Madi had a temper, but I hadn’t seen it since she’d gotten over the tantrums she would throw as a toddler. I wasn’t about to apologize to her, though I wished my mom gave me a bit of a hint to this side of things along with the whole lost gold story.
Apparently, I’d only heard half of it.
Chapter 8
LIKE SHEPHERDS BASQUE HOUSE, Sammy’s Cafe hadn’t changed much over the years that I was gone. The same yellow vinyl booths lined the wood-paneled walls, but now they were cracked and faded. I made it halfway through my second cup of coffee by the time Anne arrived. I’d given her a day to cool off before reaching out. Mom refused to fill me in on anything and had pulled the “it’s not my story to tell” card, which was ridiculous since she was the family gossip. If not for her, I wouldn’t know anything about anyone. She’d already filled me in on the whole gold story. Why was that one okay to tell, but not this one? I had no idea what her criteria was, but she wouldn’t budge and open up. Now, I would get to hear it from my sister.
I finally texted Anne and asked her to meet me on neutral ground, in a public location where I hoped we could talk and smooth things over. She finally showed up. As usual, she looked great. I was never sure why she seemed jealous of my life. Sure, I left Elk Creek and lived in the city, but to look at me in my jeans and clogs and her in her stylish outfit, someone who didn’t know us would peg her as the city girl.
Right after Logan was born, she signed up to sell make-up with one of those direct sales companies, and one of their things was that their reps used the products and conveyed a certain image. Anne drank the Kool-aid and never went into public without looking amazing. I still bought what little makeup I wore from her to support her. When she started, I figured it would be a short-lived venture. I was wrong. I was fairly sure she made way more than Brian between her make-up business and her hair cutting clientele.
Anne sat across from me and glowered with the same fierce look Madi gave me the other night.
“Okay, I cry uncle,” I said. “I went to see Carly because Mom told me she was Frank’s wife. And since I found Frank, dying on the street after being stabbed, I wanted to offer my condolences and tell her his last words. That’s it. I’m sorry that was somehow disloyal to you. Nobody told me about your past with Carly.” I sat back and waited.
She took her time peeling the foil lid off of a little plastic creamer cup and stirring some sugar into her coffee before finally speaking. “Yeah, you could say that we have a history.”
I decided to take the direct approach. “I’m guessing that Brian and Carly had an affair?”
Anne nodded. “They both still deny the whole thing, but it happened. Right after Alex died. It’s such a fucking cliché. Brian started texting a bunch, which he’d never done. Told me he was with his brother. Our sex life all but died. I finally followed him one night when he said he was working late, and he wasn’t working late. He was at Carly’s. I came home a total wreck. I was going to leave, like right then. Pack up the kids and go, but Brian came home. We fought all night. He denied it all and swore his undying love to me.”
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Would you? I should’ve confronted them together when I followed him to her house, but I was shocked and upset. I couldn’t. I confronted her, a few weeks later. She denied it. I don’t believe either of them, but after that, it stopped. Brian started coming home. We went and got some marriage counseling. Things were better for a while, but it’s hard.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s better but trust, once it’s lost, it’s damn hard to get back. And it hasn’t been easy to make it work since then. Every time I think of her, it all comes back. And I still love him. God knows why, but I do.” She paused and took a deep breath. “That family… they’re takers. Every one of them except for Kat. And Alex. But he’s gone. They’ve taken so much from us.”
“I’m sorry, Anne. I didn’t know.”
“Well, how would you know? It’s not something I like to share, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened because it was only about a year after Bret died. You were finally starting to get back on your feet. The last thing you needed was to hear about the disaster my marriage had become.” A sad smile covered her face. “I thought I’d moved past it, but when I heard where you were, it was like I found out about the whole thing with Brian and Carly all over again. Like you were choosing her over me, just like he had.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated again. “And I do get how it can all come back. That’s the nature of grief. If there’s anything I know about, it’s that. The pain gets triggered and comes back at random times, and when it does, it hits hard.” I reached my hand across the table and laid it over Anne’s, just as my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Carly Baker’s name lit up the screen.
“Can you not. Please. For me, can you just not rekindle your friendship with that woman?”
“Of course, I won’t.” The other night at Carly’s house, I’d decided that I wasn’t going to take sides in the gold situation, but this went way deeper than some crazy battle over a missing gold treasure. And my loyalty would always be with my little sister.
“Why does she even have your number?” Anne asked.
“Because I gave it to her. I didn’t know any of this, so I told her if she needed anything, to give me a call.” I glanced at my phone. “She apparently found out that Frank has a safe deposit box.” I felt a momentary twinge of guilt for not telling Anne the truth about the key, but that would only feed her feelings of me being disloyal. She really didn’t need to know about the key anyway. She couldn’t do anything with it.
“Read it,” Anne said.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Anne nodded. “Yes. I want to hear it.”
“Okay. She wrote, I found some paperwork. Frank’s got a safe deposit box in Boise.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “Do you think he could have the gold there?”
“I have no idea what Frank Baker might have in a safe deposit box. But it would have to be huge to hold anything more than a few pieces of gold, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, you’re right. You need to go with her when she opens it,” Anne said.
“Wait, what? I just promised you that I wouldn’t rekindle my friendship with her and now you want me to go be your spy and invite myself to Boise with her?”
Anne stared out the plate-glass window to main street and tapped her manicured nail against her coffee mug. I glanced at my rough cuticles and put my hands in my lap while I waited for her to gather her thoughts.
“You’re right,” she finally said. “I don’t want you to be Carly’s friend, but this isn’t about being her friend. This is about righting a wrong. Frank stole that gold from Del, from us. If Carly truly doesn’t know where it is, he stole it from her and her kids, too. How great would it be
to find it? Brian could retire. Shoot, Carly probably could too. You could even have some. Like a finder’s fee.”
“I don’t need a finder’s fee. And we have no idea what’s in the safe deposit box. And if it’s in there, it’s hers. You’ll have to sue for it unless she decides to share it.” My phone buzzed again with an incoming text, and we both glanced at it. Another text from Carly.
“Will you come with me to Boise? I could use a friend.”
I glanced up at my sister. “You can’t have it both ways.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean you’re putting me in an impossible situation. I’m not that person. I’ll honor your request to not be Carly’s friend, but if I do that, I’m not going anywhere with her. Or, I’ll go with her, but I’ll be going with her as her friend, not as your spy. You choose Anne. Either I rekindle my friendship with Carly, and I’ll tell her that if there’s anything about the gold, I’ll be sharing it with you because I won’t lie to her or to you. Or I’ll text her back and tell her that I can’t make it and because of the situation with her and Brian, it’d be best if we didn’t talk anymore.”
“Oh, my God, Tricia. You don’t get it, do you?” She hissed, clearly exasperated with me.
“Apparently not.” I held myself back from shouting at her.
Anne glared at me. “Okay, let me ask you this. Do you think Carly knows where the gold is?”
I took a deep breath. There was no compromise here. Anne wanted to win. I was trying to make this easy, and she made it impossible. I finally answered. “I’d say there’s no way she knows. But, even more than that, it doesn’t really matter to me.”
“So, what does matter to you? Not family, obviously.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’ve been here for two weeks taking care of our mother. I left my twenty-three-year-old daughter in charge of my brand-new business. My mother-in-law is watching over my seventeen-year-old. I left all of them to help Mom. Don’t ever suggest that again.” I paused to glare at my little sister before continuing. She knew exactly what buttons to push, and I was stunned she’d gone that low with me. She knew how I felt about missing the signs before Bret died. “To answer your question, yes, family matters to me. Don’t you ever suggest that it doesn’t.”