Clapping his hands together, Hank said, “Well, enough about that! What can I do for you? Is there any particular item you are looking for?”
Nick hesitated for a minute as he thought how to answer Hank. What was he supposed to say? That he just lost his job and he needed a good—no, make that a great—gift to mollify his girlfriend? Oh, and it needed to be reasonably priced!
Finally, he said, “I am looking for a gift for my girlfriend. She’s, ah, likely to be angry with me over something that just recently happened.”
“I see.” Hank tapped his chin with his forefinger as he thought of what Nick had told him.
“Might I ask how angry your girlfriend will be with you, Nick?”
Nick shrugged helplessly. “We’re talking catastrophic, ground zero-type anger, Hank.”
“That bad, huh? Well, in situations like this, normally I would suggest a diamond necklace and intimate dinner at the Waldorf in Dallas. But since you seem to be a man of, er, modest means, we will have to take plan B. Come with me.”
Hank led Nick to the back of the store. A small room was located to their left, and as they entered it, Nick saw paintings of every conceivable size and description hanging from the walls. Several crates were stacked in one corner, as apparently Hank had even more paintings that still needed unpacking. As Nick studied the paintings, he saw that they were all obviously antiques. Many had their original wooden frames containing beautifully carved scrollwork. The craftsmanship in the frames was something you didn’t see in today’s modern, mass-produced frames. Nick nodded in appreciation.
Nick’s attention was drawn to one particular painting located near the center of one wall. The painting itself was of a sailboat on a lake at night, with high peaks and crags surrounding the lake. A full moon, high in the clear night sky, cast a luminescent, reflective glow on the black water of the lake that was so placid, barely a ripple showed. The dark hull of the sailboat contrasted with the stark white of its double sails. The sailboat was heeled slightly into the wind, and as Nick leaned forward for a closer look, he saw the name La Princesa Sirena etched on her bow. Two figures, a man and a woman, stood side by side next to the spoked, wooden wheel that controlled the boat’s rudder. In a display of obvious affection, the man had one arm around the woman’s waist, while the other held the steerage wheel firmly. The woman’s head lay on his shoulder, and from the familiar way they seemed to hold each other, it was obvious to Nick they had gone on these midnight sailing trips many times together. They were dressed in clothes from a bygone era—the man in a topcoat, dark pants, and frilled shirt of some sort, while the woman wore a long, hooped skirt, a blouse cinched tightly around her small waist, and a dark cape tied about her neck, which covered her shoulders. It was a beautiful, peaceful scene of two people in love out for a midnight sail. Even though the painting was obviously old, the colors hadn’t seemed to fade, and indeed, the images seemed so lifelike, Nick half expected to hear the sails flapping in the freshening breeze.
Nick reached out and carefully ran his hands over the wooden frame. It appeared to be made of hand-carved, aged oak. The wood had been meticulously stained and lacquered to a polished, amber sheen. Peering closer, Nick could find no imperfections in the wood finish of the frame. Whoever made the frame definitely knew their business.
“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Hank asked as he stood by Nick’s elbow.
“It’s perfect,” Nick whispered.
Seeing no price tag, he asked, “How much?”
“Well, let’s see. I was thinking a masterpiece like this should fetch at least one hundred dollars.”
Seeing the panicked look in Nick’s eyes, Hank hastily added, “But I could be talked into fifty dollars.”
When the crestfallen look on Nick’s face remained, Hank sighed. Finally, he asked, “Would twenty-five dollars be too much?”
When Nick nodded eagerly, Hank cried, “Sold!”
Standing on his tiptoes, Hank removed the painting carefully from the wall and carried it with him as they both walked back toward the front of the store. They stopped by a wooden counter with an old, manual cash register on top of it. A modern credit and debit card machine was next to the cash register. A platform of sorts was built into the side of the counter, allowing Hank to step up and be at more or less eye level with his customers. As he carefully wrapped the painting in brown paper, Nick studied pictures that had been hung on the wall behind the counter.
One picture showed a willowy blonde and Hank sitting at a table in what must have been an upscale restaurant. They were dressed in formal attire—Hank in a tuxedo, and the blonde in a clinging, cream-colored dress. She was stunning and beautiful. Another picture had them both on the purple Harley, with Hank driving the trike and the woman towering above him as she sat behind him with both arms intertwined around his waist. Finally, Nick blinked as he saw what had to be a family picture. It included Hank, the blonde woman, and a teenage girl and a boy, who towered over Hank.
Hank placed flat sections of cardboard on the front and back of the painting and tied them onto the painting with a piece of twine. He looked up and smiled mischievously as he saw Nick looking at the pictures on the wall with his mouth slightly agape in amazement.
“What’s the matter? You’ve never seen family pictures before? Hey, you’re still not hating on height-challenged people, are you?” he demanded.
Nick’s scandalized look caused Hank to start laughing all over again. Pointing at Nick, he said, “Gotcha!” The look of relief on Nick’s face was so palpable, Hank almost dropped Nick’s painting he was wrapping as a fresh round of laughter erupted from him.
“You know, you really need to loosen up, Nick!” Hank gasped as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re wound as tight as a watch spring!”
Sheepishly, Nick shrugged and said, “You really know how to keep your customers on their toes, Hank.”
“Don’t I know it!” he said, grinning.
Hank turned and pointed to each person in the family picture, said, “That’s my wife, Elena, my son, Hank Jr., and my daughter, Sophia. My son is an architect with a firm based in Austin, and my daughter is in her last year at the UT law school.” The evident pride in Hank’s voice as he pointed out the members of his family caused Nick to smile. Unbidden, the thought of how the three-foot Hank had met his tall, blonde wife crossed Nick’s mind. The question must have shown on his face, because Hank smiled and nodded at Nick knowingly.
“I met Elena when we were both enrolled in the engineering school at the University of Texas. I’m a structural engineer, and she’s a chemical engineer. At any rate, as luck would have it, we had several classes together and found we both shared a common problem; namely, that our classmates and professors had a hard time taking us seriously. Elena is a tall, leggy blonde, and, as you can see, extremely good-looking. Therefore, all the guys and not a few of the professors were constantly hitting on her. As for me, the best I can describe it is that I was patronized; you know, ‘He’s a midget, so we won’t hold him to the same standard as everyone else.’ It’s something I’ve battled all my life.”
“You see, it takes extremely good grades—not to mention high test scores on entrance exams—just to get into the UT engineering school. Neither Elena nor I wanted to be treated any differently than anyone else. So as we commiserated with one another, we found we both shared a lot of the same interests. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, we were married six months later.”
“That’s great, Hank,” Nick said as he nodded approvingly. “It looks like things really worked out great for you.”
“I can’t complain. I worked more than twenty-five years for the Grumman Corporation and Elena, twenty years for Dow Chemical. We both decided that life is—no pun intended—too short, and when the kids graduated from college, we would ‘retire’ to some place where the pace of life is slower and do what we wanted to do.”
“So you ended up here, owning an antique store in Pl
easant Mountain?”
“Yep! Elena is in Houston trying to sell our house, and as soon as it sells, she’ll join me here!”
As Hank put the finishing touches on wrapping the painting, Nick thought of Hank’s remarkable story. He had had to overcome formidable obstacles, not the least of which was his physical size and appearance, and yet despite all of that, here he was, doing exactly what he wanted to do, living his life exactly as he wanted. It was a success story in stark contrast to his own. At almost thirty-three years old, Nick had been striving for the same goal, the same brass ring, his entire life, and he was no closer now than when he graduated from high school. He couldn’t even keep a crummy job, and he counted it a successful day when he found enough loose change under the couch pillows in his trailer to buy at Coke at McDonald’s! Bitterly, he shook his head.
Hank seemed to sense Nick’s thoughts as he rang up the cost of the purchase and handed Nick the neatly packaged painting.
“You know, Nick, we all face adversity no matter what our station in life. The measure of a man or woman is not how many times they get knocked down to the canvas, but how many times he or she gets back up. It makes you appreciate that much more your accomplishments and successes. Believe me. I know!”
Waving his hands expansively at his shop, Hank said, “Elena and I decided to call our store ‘Hidden Treasures’ because we have discovered at estate auctions and garage sales that people are often throwing out or selling cheaply items of rare and expensive value. It’s like the old saying, ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’ Life is like that too. Our most precious treasures are often in plain sight, and yet we are too blind to see them, many times until it is too late.”
Nick had the odd feeling that his life was an open book and that Hank had read every page. It was an eerie feeling, and he hastily paid Hank for the picture, thanked him, and turned to leave. He hadn’t gotten halfway to the door when Hank called out to him.
“Good luck, Nick! I hope the painting brings you what you seek!”
Nick nodded at Hank, waving good-bye to him as he exited the antique shop. What an odd comment, he thought as he got into his car and started it. Didn’t he mean to say something like, ‘Hope your girlfriend likes the painting?’ Deciding it didn’t matter, he started the car.
The eerie feeling remained as Nick drove away.
Chapter 5
Lisa’s apartment was located in a newer complex on the east side of town. Not much more than an efficiency apartment, it had a small bedroom with a double bed, a bathroom, and a kitchen-den combination. Located on the second floor, it was accessed by a set of concrete and metal stairs. It was past five o’clock when Nick pulled into the apartment parking lot, and he could see Lisa’s Toyota Camry parked in its usual spot. That meant she had gotten home early from work. He bit back a curse, as he had hoped to surprise her by having the painting hung on the wall before she got home. Oh well, might as well get it over with, he thought as he steeled himself for the angry verbal hurricane he was sure was to come.
After exiting the car, he opened the passenger-side door and removed the painting that was wedged there. Taking a deep breath, he started for the stairs.
Nick had just finished climbing the stairs and was turning the corner that led to Lisa’s apartment, when he stopped suddenly, and his jaw dropped in surprise. There, stacked neatly outside her apartment, were boxes containing all his things. Getting over his momentary shock, he hurried over and gazed down at the boxes. Turning, he was about to enter the apartment, when Lisa opened the door and planted herself firmly in the doorway.
Lisa was a curvaceous five feet six inches, with long, brunette hair highlighted with blonde streaks. Blue eyes were located beneath perfectly plucked eyebrows that flashed angrily at Nick. Full lips covered teeth now furiously chewing gum, something Nick knew from unpleasant experience meant she was past the stage of reasoning with. Somehow, she must have found out that he had lost his job! She was still wearing her neon pink, Hair Creations smock with her name, “Lisa,” embroidered on it. With a sinking feeling, he knew how she must have found out. In a small town like Pleasant Mountain, hair salons were the center of town gossip. Nothing was kept secret for very long before it found its way to a beautician or hair stylist. The Department of Homeland Security could learn a thing or two about the at of intelligence gathering by studying such places of business! he thought bitterly.
At any rate, someone, some patron of Hair Creations, must have had a friend or relative that worked at the Home Depot distribution center who knew Nick had been laid off, and that person had then told another person, etc., etc., all the way down the information food chain. Once she had discovered he had lost his job, Lisa must have canceled the rest of her appointments and come straight back to the apartment and packed up his stuff.
“Look, I can explain everything!” Nick attempted to say before Lisa angrily cut him off.
“That’s it! We’re through, Nick! I’m not listening to one more excuse! Just pick up your things and leave!”
“Lisa, it wasn’t my fault! The company was laying off people, and they started with the last ones hired!”
“Exactly! And why were you the last one hired, Nick? Because you can’t hold on to a job, that’s why! I’m tired of supporting us both, and I’m not going to do it anymore!”
“Lisa, listen, I’ll get another job, I swear! Just give me another chance!”
In reply, Lisa angrily held her left hand up, as if on display, and wriggled her fingers before Nick’s eyes.
“Do you see this, Nick? Look at it carefully, and tell me what you don’t see! You don’t see a ring, as in a wedding ring, do you? Why? Because you can’t afford one, even if you could work up the courage to make such a commitment! I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’m tired of waiting for you to grow up! I don’t intend to waste one more minute of my life with you!”
As Nick opened his mouth to try and reason with Lisa, he saw movement in her apartment through the partially open door. Suspiciously, he reached over Lisa and pushed the door wide open. A bare-chested young man lounged on a love seat next to the kitchenette, dressed only in cargo shorts and flip-flops. Dark curls framed his handsome face, and his shirtless torso revealed tanned, muscular arms and a trim waist etched with six- pack abs. For some reason, the guy looked familiar to Nick.
“Hey, dude,” the young man intoned pleasantly.
“Who’s this?” Nick demanded.
Caught off guard, Lisa was momentarily at a loss for words before finally saying, “It’s … it’s none of your business! I told you, we’re through, Nick!”
“Wait!” Nick cried as his eyes narrowed in recognition. “It’s Tony, the waiter from Porter’s!” Porter’s was a steakhouse that was located in an old Victorian home within Pleasant Mountain. The two-story home had been refurbished and remodeled into the steakhouse. The prices were normally way out of Nick’s reach, even with both he and Lisa going dutch, yet she had insisted that they eat there, especially lately. In fact, they had eaten at Porter’s four times in the past month alone! Tony was the waiter that always waited on them.
“No wonder you always insisted I leave him a five-dollar tip!” he said accusingly. Rather than answer him, Lisa averted her eyes and looked guiltily away.
Suddenly, it all became clear to Nick. The odd way Lisa had been acting toward him lately, the trips to Porter’s. They had all neatly coincided within the past month. The revelation struck him with the impact of a bunker-buster bomb, and he knew with depressing finality that Lisa was right—they were through! But it hadn’t started today, and it didn’t have anything to do with losing his job. No, the beginning of the end of their relationship had come the first time they had eaten at Porter’s and Lisa had first laid eyes on Tony. Losing his job had just accelerated their day of reckoning. After a moment or two of numbed silence, Nick, robot-like, finally picked up one of the boxes and began carrying it to his car.
Halfway to his car, Nick re
alized he was still carrying the painting he was going to give to Lisa. Reaching his car, he unlocked the hatchback and propped the painting in the narrow space there. As he turned to go back and get the rest of his things, he discovered Lisa and Tony had followed him, carrying the rest of the boxes. No one said a word as he took them one by one and somehow managed to cram them all in the Sprint. As he turned to get in his car, Lisa placed her hand gently on his arm.
“Wait just a minute, Nick,” she said softly. Glancing at Tony, she asked, “Can you give us a moment?”
“Sure!” he replied, grinning. Pausing, he looked at Nick and added, “No hard feelings, dude!” and began walking back to the apartment.
Watching Tony’s retreating back, Nick found he really wasn’t that angry with him. The kid was what, twenty or twenty-one years old? He was at the age where there were no responsibilities, just opportunities. Lisa was Tony’s latest opportunity, and whether she realized it or not, Nick was betting that sometime in the very near future, it would be Tony making his good-byes to Lisa.
That still didn’t make the hurt of his breakup with Lisa any less painful.
Sniffing back tears, Lisa said, “I’m sorry, Nick. I tried, I really did. It’s not that you’re not a good person, because you are. You really are! You just can’t seem to focus on anything. It’s … it’s like you’re searching for something, but you don’t know exactly what it is. I mean, since I’ve known you, you have tried selling used cars, tried being a volunteer fireman, and even tried being an EMT. You’ve worked at jobs from being a fry cook to an insurance salesman, and none of it panned out! My God, Nick, as little money as you have, you still gave some guy five hundred dollars as an investment in an ostrich farm! At some point, you need to figure something out and grow up!”
The Treasure Hunt Club Page 3