by Amy Isaman
“I know, but I need to talk to you and Darius about something.” I already felt guilty enough, and despite my familiarity with guilt, the feeling was never welcome.
She shoved the brochure into her back pocket, her eyebrows raised. “Me and Darius? What about?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.” I started toward the entrance.
Laurel kept my pace. “Wait.” She touched my arm. “Mom, what’s going on?”
I shook my head and kept walking.
“You’re really not going to tell me?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him.” We reached the street and I waved my arm at a taxi.
“Tell him what?” Her voice rose in frustration.
♦♦♦
Arriving at the Inn, I headed upstairs to get the card and the letter, which gave me a moment alone to plan what I would say. I felt better going into unknown situations with a plan. It helped, even if things rarely turned out how I intended them to.
Housekeeping had tidied my room, and thankfully they hadn’t touched the packet. I washed my hands and grabbed a clean towel from the bathroom to protect the ancient papers. I wished again for some gloves and thought I’d ask Darius for some. He’d decorated the walls of Laurel’s room with baby baptismal gowns, surely, he’d have some lady’s gloves somewhere?
Laurel and Darius sat in the back garden where we ate breakfast. They had some iced tea and a glass in front of an empty seat for me. I glanced briefly at the wrought-iron gate that I’d envisioned when we first pulled up to the property. I’d seen it correctly in my mind’s eye. If I believed in reincarnation, I would believe that I lived here before.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t know what was happening, only that I had a consistent feeling of the heebie jeebies since we arrived. And clutching an ancient tarot card in my hand didn’t help.
Only Darius and Laurel sat in the garden, but I still didn’t want to take any chances with nosy guests overhearing that I found a priceless object in my room, and it was wrapped up in a hand towel.
“Is there any chance we can have this conversation inside?” I held the towel wrapped tarot card as if I was carrying a tray.
Laurel eyed it curiously.
Darius stood. “Sure, we can sit in the Reception room, at the front of the Inn.”
“No, I mean can we talk in your living quarters?” Asking him felt forward and uncomfortable, but privacy for this discussion was more important here than my own comfort level.
He cocked his head at me in confusion. “I don’t normally allow guests in my personal quarters.”
“Mom, are you okay?” Laurel leaned closer and studied me, concern flitted across her face.
I was fully aware of how odd this was. I shifted, feeling awkward but determined. “Yes, and I’m almost embarrassed to ask, but you’ll understand in a moment. This conversation requires some privacy.”
Thankfully, he didn’t question me any further, and we followed him through the Inn and down the stairs to his rooms. Warm leather couches, art, antiques, and books filled the space.
He lowered himself onto the leather couch and Laurel sat across from him on a chair, leaving me the seat next to Darius. I was sure Laurel designed that on purpose.
Shaking off my unease, I lowered myself to the soft leather, setting my towel wrapped package on the coffee table in front of Darius. I tried not to fidget like an uncomfortable fourteen-year-old as I explained my dream and my knowledge that our room was originally wallpapered in a rose chintz.
At that Darius narrowed his eyes, studying me. “It was wallpapered in roses,” he said.
“I know.” I was sure that he must think I was a complete nut, but I continued. “Last night when we got home, I dropped my earring, which rolled under the wardrobe. So, I tugged it from the wall. As you know, it’s massive and super heavy, so I sat down in it to rest.”
Darius’ eyebrows raised, but thankfully he stayed silent.
“And behind a fake wood panel inside the wardrobe, I found something.” I picked up the white, towel wrapped package and offered it to him.
Darius took the package from me and began to unwrap it.
I stopped him. “Before you open that, you wouldn’t happen to have any gloves that would be appropriate for holding old photographs or art, would you?”
“Actually, I do.” He looked questioningly at me. “Shall I get them?”
“Please.”
He set the packet back on the table and strode across the room toward what I imagined was his study or office. Today he wore the same soft, worn jeans he wore yesterday. They fit, perfectly.
Laurel leaned toward me. “Mom, what is this? What did you find?”
“I think it’s a piece of his family’s history. It’s, well, you’ll see.”
She leaned back and groaned. “I can’t believe you won’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me last night? Or this morning?”
“I’m not sure. This whole place has me completely off-center. I can’t explain it.”
“Is that why you wanted to leave and get a new hotel on the first day?”
I nodded. When Darius returned, he wore latex gloves, the kind that nurses wear in the hospital. He unfolded the towel and picked up the letter from Anna Teresa. He read it. And then read it again before lifting his gaze to mine.
“Jesus. She didn’t destroy them.”
“I know,” I nodded as he folded back her original fabric wrapping to reveal the Tower card. Laurel stood and moved behind the couch, studying the card over his shoulder. “Is this what I think it is?”
“I think so,” I answered. “According to Darius’ family legend it is. Of course, we need to authenticate it, but yes, it looks like one of the cards we viewed yesterday at the museum.”
“How? Wait,” Darius paused, sorting his thoughts. “You found this in the wardrobe?”
I explained again how it was hidden behind a false panel next to the doors. The only way to see it would be to climb or sit inside. Like I had embarrassingly done.
“I’m assuming the piece has been in your family since 1924.” I pointed at the date on the letter.
“As far as I know. It’s been in the house as long as I can remember, but I moved it to the third floor. Thank God I didn’t get rid of it.” He shuddered, a horrified look crossing his face. “I actually thought about it, several times. Can you imagine what I would have been giving away?”
“So, do these clues mean there are more of them? Three more?” Laurel asked.
Darius nodded and looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see through the floors. “I would have sworn that she destroyed them. I’ve been over every centimeter of this house and redone almost everything, but I missed this. Where the bloody hell are the others?”
“Do you think they’re here? I’ve been thinking about it since I’d found the letter too, but it also sounded like a wild goose chase. She obviously didn’t want the cards found. Maybe she gave the Knight of Coins to someone who’s a knight? The Devil clue makes no sense. It ‘resides with the beginning’. Did she send it back to Italy?”
Darius re-read her words. “I don’t think so. As far as I know, she didn’t have any contact with family in Italy. We’ve got to find them, though.”
“Oh my gosh, can you imagine, Mom? This is so amazing. It’s like finding a sunken Spanish Armada ship or a buried treasure.” Laurel’s eyes were wide. “Isn’t this worth a fortune?”
I nodded. “Definitely. This is highly collectible.”
She pointed to the papers below the card. “What else is in there?”
Darius set the card aside on the towel and began unfolding the incredibly thin paper. He stopped when he realized its fragility and instead held it up to the light, eyeing the minuscule script. “This is written in Italian.”
“Either that or Latin. Whatever it is, I couldn’t decipher any of it. You wouldn’t happen to speak Italian, would you?”
“I
can get by, but not well enough to translate this.”
“I have a contact here, my old friend Collin, who might be able to help with the translation. Would you like me to get in touch?”
Darius nodded his head as his mouth dropped open, a stunned look on his face as he looked at the card and the letters spread out on the table in front of him. We all took a moment to study them when he broke the silence. “What do you think the letter’s dated? Do you think it’s as old as the cards? If so, and if it helps authenticate the card…” he trailed off. “You work in the art world? Insurance, correct?”
“Yes, I generally work with people on their private collections. Or on public collections when they’ve been damaged by natural disasters but nothing like this. Artifacts like these are most often in museum collections, not private ones, especially in America. We’re a bit newer over there.”
Darius picked the card up by its edges, studying the image.
I continued. “You definitely need to get this piece authenticated and insured. It’s old. And valuable. Do you have a safe? A really good one? Because until we can get this into the right hands, you need to keep it secure. I’m sure it’s already occurred to you that, for the right collector, you’re holding a fortune in your hands.” If I could focus on what I knew, how to care for art, I could keep my feet on the ground, my grip on reality.
Darius gently laid the card back on the towel, stood, and began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “We’ve got to find the rest of them.”
“No, I disagree. First, take care of the one you’ve got.”
“It’ll be just fine in the safe for a day or two. It’s the rest of the cards I’d like.” He paused and stared at me. “You’d like to find them too, wouldn’t you? “
Yes. And no. I thought of almost nothing since I found the damn thing, but my thoughts were like a giant pendulum. One second, the thought of solving the clues and the puzzle intrigued me. Then the next moment, it seemed like a wild pointless adventure. I had a conference to attend, and a week of plans with my daughter. But, then, it could be something different, exciting, something I hadn’t let myself do in far too long.
“I, uh,” I finally shrugged helplessly, unsure what I wanted.
Darius stood and began pacing, thinking out loud. “You said you knew somebody who could help us translate that letter? And I’ll have to tell Tori about this. She’ll be stunned and hopefully able to shed some light on the meaning of the cards, so we can figure out these bloody clues.”
“Can’t you just Google it? I think the fewer people who know about it the better. Darius, these are priceless.”
“Well, probably, but what if the meaning changed in the past eighty years? Tarot cards have gotten pretty popular, haven’t they? Are the meanings the same? And what if the secret society interpreted them in a different way?” He shook his head. “I definitely think that talking to a tarot expert will save a ton of time.”
“As long as you can trust her. I really think it’s better if you keep this quiet.” I got the feeling that in his excitement, Darius would be telling everyone, but then again, it was his card. Not mine. Even so, his exuberance about sharing them somehow made me uncomfortable. I sighed. What was it with this place? It was so not like me to get all gloomy and doomy.
“Of course,” Darius said. “We’re telling two people who we’ve both known for years and trust, correct? Tori and your friend from college, who can translate it. No worries there, my dear.”
But I wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 10
DARIUS SAT BACK DOWN and studied the letter from his great-grandmother, Noni. “She promised my grandmother that she wouldn’t destroy the cards, that they could be found. That’s encouraging.”
“Did you know her? Your Noni?” I asked.
Darius shook his head. “I didn’t. She died the year before I was born, but she raised my mother and my Aunt Irene.” He turned to me. “I think we can figure this out.”
“Perhaps,” I laughed. The idea intrigued me. How could it not? But I was on a vacation with my daughter and had a conference in a few days. “This adventure,” I pointed out, “seems like something that might keep you busy for the rest of your life. Her clues aren’t exactly obvious.”
“No, they’re not. That’s why I need your help. There’s a reason you found this one.” He still wore the gloves that I asked him to don before handing him the tarot card. He counted off on his fingers. “Your dream. The sense that you’ve been here before. And, if nothing else, Tricia, I’d like your help.” He paused and glanced at me with a grin and raised eyebrows, “it could be fun.”
Was he alluding to the tarot card hunt or something else? I knew that he knew how charming he was. This was probably one of his tricks to win women over, and much to my chagrin, it worked. Like a charm. I think it was the first time he said my name, and it made my heart tilt a wee bit in my chest. I’d felt discombobulated since we pulled up to the Silver Birch Inn, and it was time to pull myself together. But every moment with Darius sent me into more of a tailspin, one I wasn’t ready for.
“Nope. I’m out. I found the first one, and now, I’m going to focus on my daughter and our vacation. We’re only here for a few more days, then I’ve got my conference. And, as I said, this is a project that could take years. You’re going to have to take the house apart.”
“Mom,” Laurel interrupted me. “Are you kidding? You can’t say no to this. Don’t go to your conference. We’re talking about valuable medieval art here. This is your career. Imagine what kind of boost this would give you. You love art history and always have - you majored in it. Why not do this? Why on earth would you pass up the opportunity to go on a real-life treasure hunt for some valuable missing art? This is a huge opportunity, and I think you’re being ridiculous. I agree with Darius. I think there’s something about this house, the cards, their history, whatever, that’s choosing you.”
I scoffed. “I’m a middle-aged widow who’s trying to support her kids. I can’t skip this conference, nor can I devote time to a wild goose chase. It’s not realistic. Chasing after these cards makes zero sense.”
Laurel gaped at me and then stood. “Mom, that’s a cop-out. I’m twenty-two years old. I’ve got a degree and can support myself. You’d have so much fun. It’d do nothing but boost your career. I’m gonna do you a favor and remove myself from the equation. I’m going on a walk. Love you.” She stood and leaned over to give me a hug.
“Wait. What are you doing? We have plans.” Laurel ignored me and left the apartment. I hurried after her.
She stopped, only when I grabbed at her arm. “Mom, for once, let go. Please. Screw the conference. Have fun. I love you.” She gave me a quick hug and then jogged up the stairs, leaving me alone. This whole trip was about me letting go. Didn’t she see that? I left her brother on the other side of the ocean. Why did I need to go on some wild treasure hunt to prove to her that I was happy and could have fun? Sure, Darius was a charming, good-looking man, but when it came to men, I didn’t know how to let go anymore. Letting go meant losing control, missing things that might keep those I loved safe.
My brain ping-ponged back and forth. What was it my seventeen-year-old son always said? FOMO? YOLO? I couldn’t think of the right acronym. All I could hear was Bret’s answer when he felt burdened by life and responsibilities. “Fuck it,” he’d say, and we’d load up and head out to the beach or some other adventure. His voice echoed in my head. No trendy acronyms there.
I took a step toward Darius’ apartment and rubbed at my forehead. Now my dead husband was talking to me, encouraging me to follow a strange man rather than my daughter.
I’d officially lost it.
But a small grin covered my face as I returned to Darius’ apartment.
He smiled when he saw me. “Look at this card.” He held it up by the edges and tilted it so it caught the light. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The gold? It still shimmers a bit.” I sat next to him and studied the colors, s
till vibrant after all these years.
“It is lovely, but it also shows two figures dying.” I tried to ignore the flutter of anxiety that rippled in my chest. No regrets, Tricia, I told myself, this is all about the fuck-its. I ran it through my head, like a mantra. “Don’t you think that’s significant?”
“I think my Noni did. That’s why she warned whoever found the cards. But I don’t think so.” He set the card on the table and pulled off his gloves before reaching for my hand. My heart skipped. “You think these two figures might be us?” he asked, his dark eyes boring into me.
“No,” I answered quickly. I didn’t want to admit that I did, that would be buying into the card’s power. I didn’t want to lie either. “Maybe?” I finally added, acquiescing after a long pause. Those two figures were he and I, but admitting it went against every cell in my body. I never believed in any of this. Tarot. Prophecy. Psychic mediums. Chakras. Auras. But here I was acknowledging that this damn card had some sort of power, that it symbolized me. But that wasn’t the most disconcerting part of this whole thing. It was that I had some sort of weird knowing when it came to these cards. I, Miss Pragmatic Empiricist, dreamed about the card’s hiding place and that dream turned out to be reality–years ago a wrapped package was hidden where nobody could find it. Until I did. I didn’t understand any of it. In truth, the card gave me a sense of foreboding, deep in my gut, not a comfortable or welcome feeling for someone who never relied on gut feelings to navigate through life and scoffed at people who had.
Darius set the card down and pulled Anna Teresa’s letter toward him. “The Knight of Coins is watched over by a man like himself. The Devil resides in the beginning. And the Three of Swords is a broken heart?” He lifted his head and ran his fingers through his hair before rubbing his day-old whiskers and resting his chin in his hand. “What do these mean? Do you have any thoughts?”
“I have no idea about the knight unless you had an actual knight in your family?”