The Treasure Hunt Club

by Michael Scott Clifton

  Friday morning dawned clear and cloudless, the precursor of another hot July day. Nick spent that morning at the Verizon office ditching his old cell phone and buying a new one. His new cell plan had unlimited minutes and text messaging, a significant upgrade over the paid minutes of his cheap Wal-Mart cell. He called Mark, Kenneth, and Steve and gave them his new number. While he had him on the phone, Mark told him that he had dropped the coins from the hidden cashbox off at the coin shop in Texarkana the day before. Unfortunately, the coin dealer had an out-of-town trip planned that weekend and wouldn’t be able to give them an estimation of the coins’ value until sometime next week. Without any money, Mark had not opened a bank account for the Treasure Hunt Club. Nick had told him he would use the money he had received from the cashier’s check, and the club could just pay him back, something Mark readily agreed to.

  Clicking off, Nick hesitated and then called Mark’s home. He had not talked to Abby since Monday, and he found he was disappointed when no one answered the phone. Shrugging, he clicked off, reminding himself to get her cell phone number that night.

  Nick headed back home and doodled around in his workshop until it was time to get ready, Nick returned to the trailer, where he showered and shaved. Standing in only his boxers, he opened the sliding door to his closet and considered what to wear. Unfortunately, his options were few; he had worn his only good pair of pants and shirt to church with Abby, and he couldn’t just wear them again so soon.

  All that was left was an eclectic selection of various blue jeans, T-shirts, and shorts—most of which were wrinkled from being jammed in his tiny closet.

  Sighing, he finally chose a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. Hunting around at the top of his closet produced his mother’s old iron—something he had used exactly once in his life—and, plugging it in, used the top of the kitchen table as an ironing board in an attempt to iron the wrinkles out of the T-shirt.

  A few minutes later, he held the T-shirt up before him and scrutinized it. Most of the worst wrinkles were gone. However, the smaller wrinkles had defied his best efforts to iron them out. Shrugging, he put the T-shirt on.

  Next, Nick searched for a pair of shoes to wear. All he owned were tennis shoes and flip-flops besides his one pair of brown shoes. Arraying the tennis shoes on the floor before him, he eyed them critically. Most were scuffed and stained and were off-brands he had bought in the bargain bin. Choosing the least scuffed pair, he took a wet rag and tried with limited success to remove the worst of the dirt and stains. Putting them on, he finally headed to the bathroom, where he pawed through bottles of cologne lying jumbled in the bathroom drawer. Selecting a bottle Lisa had given him last Christmas, he sprayed some in his hands and rubbed it on his face, neck, and chest. The thought of Lisa caused him to pause. Although they had broken up only two weeks ago, it now seemed like a lifetime! Given the time and level of commitment he had spent with her, he thought it odd that now he couldn’t even summon faint feelings of regret. Perhaps that was a direct reflection of just how shallow our relationship had always been, he thought sadly to himself. Shaking his head, he took one last look at himself in the mirror before exiting the trailer and walking to his car. A few minutes later, he was on the road.

  Nick pulled up and parked once again alongside the curb in front of Mark and Patti’s house. As he walked up to the front door, Nick was startled as it was suddenly jerked open, and Mark and Patti were standing there with broad smiles on their faces.

  “I want you to know that my cousin has a midnight curfew!” Patti tried to say sternly. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined because Patti couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

  “Yeah, and no funny business!” Mark chimed in, although he had no better success than Patti in keeping the grin off his face.

  Holding both hands up before him in surrender, Nick said, “The perfect gentleman. I promise!”

  “Well, in that case, it’s liable to be a boring evening,” a feminine voice said behind Mark and Patti. Looking up, Nick saw Abby walking down the hallway toward them. His mouth dropped open at the sight of her. She was wearing a black and white two-piece print dress. The top of the dress was a V-neck, with cap sleeves and a mock button front that hugged her small waist and bosom, while the flared skirt was mid-calf in length. A pair of black sandals completed the ensemble. A black hair band held Abby’s long, shimmering hair behind her ears, and a pair of earrings made of tiny black and white pearls dangled from her ears. Abby’s full lips glistened with the pink lip gloss she had applied to them, while she had added just enough rouge to her cheeks to bring out their natural color.

  Nick was spellbound and convinced Abby was the loveliest woman he had ever seen!

  Mark gave a low whistle. “Abby, if only I wasn’t married to your cousin!” This earned him a good-natured jab from Patti’s elbow.

  “Well, what do you think?” Abby asked as she did a pirouette in front of Nick.

  “You look … fantastic!” he finally managed to say.

  Scanning Nick critically, Abby said, “It’s nice to see you dressed up for the occasion also.” Stammering, Nick tried to formulate an answer until he heard Abby’s tinkling laughter.

  Looking over her shoulder, Abby winked at Patti and said, “See, I told you! He does it every time! Isn’t it cute?”

  Turning, Abby looped her arm through Nick’s and steered him toward her car parked in the driveway.

  “Nick, you are so gullible! You need to lighten up!” she said, giggling. Relieved, Nick wondered if Abby had taken lessons from Hank Harper.

  Handing her keys to Nick, she waited while he opened the passenger side door for her. Walking around to the other side of the car, Nick looked up and saw Mark giving him a big thumb’s up. Grinning, he waved at Mark and Patti before getting in and starting the Corolla. Backing up, he pulled out onto the street, and a short time later, they were on their way to Longview.

  Longview was a city of almost eighty thousand residents, approximately fifty miles southeast of Pleasant Mountain. Many people in Pleasant Mountain drove to Longview when looking for shop- ping, eating, and other distractions not found in their own small town. Not really knowing what to expect, Nick was pleasantly surprised when he and Abby chatted amiably the entire hour-long drive. She was easy to talk to, and Nick found himself, as before, immediately comfortable in her presence. He wondered if she was as comfortable with him.

  They reached the city’s outskirts a little after six o’clock. Abby had politely suggested that they do a little shopping at some clothing stores for Nick. Never much of a clotheshorse, Nick had reluctantly agreed. Stopping first at the mall, they made their way through Penney’s, Sears, and Dillard’s. By the time they made their last stop at Old Navy, Nick had three new pairs of pants, four new shirts, one new pair of tennis shoes, and one new pair of dress shoes. Although he had a man’s natural aversion to trying on clothes to see if they actually fit, Abby had insisted he try on each and every article of clothing. At first, he had felt extremely foolish as he stood on display with tags sticking out of his collar or pant leg. However, as this process wore on, he found he enjoyed the attention Abby was giving him. Standing before him, she would purse her lips, as if in deep concentration, while asking him to turn this way and that. Occasionally, she would even tug at his shirts as if to adjust them for a better fit.

  Old Navy had clothes that were more in line with the ones he usually wore, namely shorts and T-shirts. As such, he had looked around with greater interest than he had at the other stores. A clerk had assisted them shortly after they had entered the store, and Abby had asked him several questions before being pointed by the clerk to a display of clothes near one corner of the store. Rather than follow Abby, Nick chose to stay with the clerk, since the changing stalls were nearby.

  “Been shopping long?” the clerk asked sympathetically. Nick nodded wearily as he looked over at the clerk. The young man looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, the stereotypical employee of thi
s kind of clothing store. His brown hair had been moussed outward into long stringy spikes that would have made Don King proud. A wispy goatee struggled to grow from his chin, and he wore the standard, employee-issue, brown pants and white polo shirt. A plastic nametag hung at a crooked angle from his shirt with the name “Jordon” on it.

  “Well, your girlfriend seems to know what she is looking for, so maybe it won’t be too much longer.”

  “She’s not … “ Nick started to say before stopping himself. The clerk had called Abby his girlfriend!

  The young man’s mistaken interpretation of their relationship caused a warm feeling to blossom within him, and he found he didn’t want to correct him. When Abby returned a short time later with several pairs of shorts and shirts for him to try on, he thought it was a feeling he could definitely get used to! By the time they left the store, he had another pair of shorts, and they headed for the café where Abby had made reservations.

  The café turned out to be an upscale bistro that doubled as a book and gift shop. Called Lofton’s, it was located in a strip mall close to the loop that encircled Longview. Lofton’s, Nick soon discovered, had seating both inside and out. The outside dining area looked like a photograph out of a French or Italian tourist guidebook. A dozen small tables covered with starched white tablecloths were arranged cozily, and each had a covered candle to provide dim illumination. Ceiling fans turned lazily above the tables, providing a constant artificial breeze. Abby asked Nick if they could be seated outside, and he readily agreed. The setting sun was only a reddish glow in the western horizon as they were shown to their table by the hostess. Surprisingly, it had cooled considerably, and the movement of air provided by the ceiling fans made the atmosphere quite comfortable.

  The hostess asked for their drink order, and Nick ordered a beer, while Abby requested a white wine. As they perused the menu, more couples began to drift into the bistro, although only a few chose to be seated outside. By the time their waiter appeared to take their order, there were only two other tables occupied besides their own. As they had on the drive down to Longview, they talked and chatted amiably, with none of the stiffness or moments of awkward silence that often occurred on first dates. Nick learned that both of Abby’s older brothers were married and that she had two nephews and two nieces, with one sister-in-law expecting again in December. Her oldest brother, Sam, lived in Tyler, a city of one hundred thousand that was sixty miles south of Pleasant Mountain, and was an associate professor of math at Tyler Junior College, while her other brother, Brandon, lived in Rockwall, just east of Dallas, and was a CPA.

  She and her brothers had grown up in Lindale, a community just just outside of Tyler. She had run cross-country and track while in high school and had graduated from Lindale High School in the top 10 percent of her class.

  Nick told Abby his mother and sister lived in Plano, a suburb of Dallas, and that he too had a niece and nephew. Abby asked about his father, and Nick’s face darkened. Thankfully, their food arrived providentially at that point, sparing Nick any comment about his father.

  The food, although expensive, was as good as advertised. Nick had blackened snapper, served on a bed of brown rice and a baked potato, while Abby’s entrée was chicken cordon bleu, served with steamed vegetables. For dessert, they shared a bread pudding drenched in a warm, buttery rum sauce. The waiter returned to clear their dishes, and while Abby ordered another glass of wine, Nick declined another beer since he was driving. By this time, it was after nine o’clock, and they were the only couple still in the outside dining area. Sitting at the table with only the flickering candle to provide a muted illumination, Nick and Abby listened to the distant traffic on the loop as a constant stream of cars drove by.

  Fiddling with the saltshaker, Nick kept screwing the lid on and off as he tried to work up the courage to ask Abby a question he had wanted to ask her all night. Finally, he put it down and turned toward her.

  “Abby, why did you go out with me? You’re smart, beautiful, and talented, while I’m … well, I’m me—not the best catch in the world, if you know what I mean.”

  In the soft light, Nick saw Abby studying him, her expression unreadable. Finally, she looked away and said, “You already asked me that question, remember? I thought I had answered it.”

  “C’mon, Abby!” Nick said, uncomfortable in persisting but, at the same time, determined to get an answer from her. “You know what I mean! You’ve known Mark and Patti most of your life, and I’m sure you’ve heard all about my … my life and all the stupid screw-ups and crazy schemes.”

  Abby did not answer Nick for a long time, and he began to fear he had hurt her feelings. Finally, she turned to him and placed her hand on his. Her hand was smooth and warm, and she squeezed his own hand gently as she gazed into his eyes.

  “Is that what you think of your life, Nick?” she asked softly. “That it is a series of one disaster after another? Well, let me give you another point of view.” Nick swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

  “There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, Nick. Most people have dreams, wishes, goals—whatever you want to call it. The difference between you and them is that you’ve tried to fulfill your dreams and followed the path less traveled, while they settled for the more stable, but less satisfying, niches of life. Believe me, I know. My ex-husband was a dentist, and I was the receptionist at his office for several years. I got to see all kinds of people: housewives, teachers, doctors, lawyers, businessmen, accountants—every type of professional you can imagine, and by normal standards, they were considered successful. They had the big houses, membership in the country club, and weekend cabins on the lake. However, the conversations I had with them showed me that too many simply weren’t happy!

  They were always complaining about the long hours, the tight schedules, the constant pressure they were under. Not all of them, mind you, but enough to make me see that too many had traded their own dreams for someone else’s.”

  Abby paused and absently adjusted her hair band. “I heard on the news not too long ago that people who live in metropolitan areas—like Dallas—spend, on average, thirty-eight hours of their life each year stuck in traffic. Think about that, Nick.

  Thirty-eight hours! How’s that for a productive use of your time and your life! Now, compare that with your so-called screw-ups. Whose time, whose life, has been wasted now?”

  Gripping Nick’s hand harder, Abby continued, “You see, I think it takes courage to try and follow your dreams. Maybe you haven’t found yours yet, maybe you never will, but despite all of that, you can truly say you had no regrets. You won’t be one of those people who one day look at themselves in the mirror and wonder about what might have been.”

  Abby looked away from Nick momentarily, as if trying to choose her next words carefully. Finally, she turned back, facing him. “When I first saw you in your workshop, you had such an excited, intense look on your face, and you had such … energy! I thought, ‘Here’s someone interesting, someone who is not like most people.’ That’s why I asked you to go to church with me, and why I wanted to learn more about you.”

  Nick had never had anyone describe him in such a way as Abby had. It was like she understood him at a level that even his friends couldn’t approach, despite knowing him for years. In fact, other than his grandfather and perhaps his mother, no one had even attempted to try and learn what made Nick Hollister tick. A lump arose in his throat, and it was at that precise moment he knew that Abby was unlike any person he had ever met.

  For a long time, they said nothing, with only the whir of the ceiling fans and the bustle of the distant traffic disturbing their silence.

  Finally, Nick asked softly, “What about you, Abby? What are your dreams?” Looking at Abby, Nick immediately regretted the question as he saw a sense of sadness seem to come over her.

  Taking a sip of the wine as if to fortify herself, Abby glanced over at Nick and said, “I … I don’t know. I used to think I knew wha
t would make me happy, but now I don’t know anymore.” Nick considered her answer, and he began screwing and unscrewing the lid to the saltshaker again as an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Putting the saltshaker down with an audible thump, Nick looked over at Abby.

  “Why? Why don’t you know? I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to know.”

  Abby said nothing and graduated from the task of adjusting her headband to turning the wineglass round and round in her hands. She did this for several moments, as if unsure of how or even if she wanted to answer Nick’s question. Finally, she gave a deep sigh and put the wine glass down.

  “I met Rob, my ex-husband, when I was a sophomore at the University of Dallas,” she began without preamble. “He was a senior and had already been accepted into dental school. He was handsome, charming, intelligent, and I fell for him almost immediately. We were married the day after he graduated. We didn’t have much money, and I had to drop out of college in order to work and help Rob get through dental school. It was a long four years, and we lived pretty much hand-to-mouth, but I was happy, convinced that in the end, it would be worth it—Rob would establish his practice, we could buy a house, and we could raise a family.

  “Rob finally graduated, and he opened his first office in an old building in McKinney that used to be a shoe store. The first year was difficult. Rob struggled to establish his practice.

  Gradually, he began to build a patient base. Since we couldn’t afford office help, I did practically everything, from answering phones to scheduling appointments. I even paid the bills and balanced the books each month. Finally, we were able to afford a full-time receptionist and a dental assistant. Things were looking up, Rob had all the patients he could handle, and I began to draw up floor plans of our dream house in my mind.