The Key in the Attic (15 page)

Melanie didn’t say anything. “What … what exactly is it?” she asked finally.

“A really amazing necklace with pearls and rubies and diamonds, and earrings and a ring to match. It’s all gorgeous.”

“And why are you telling me this? To gloat?”

“I just wanted you to know that half of it is yours. We’re all that’s left of our great-great-grandmother Angeline’s descendants. To me, that means it belongs to both of us equally.”

Again Melanie was silent.

“Mel?”

“Mother gave that clock and all those other things to you.” Melanie’s voice was very soft now and not very steady. “I’d say anything inside one of them belongs to you. After all, she left the business to me.”

“She didn’t know there was something in the clock. I’m sure she would have wanted us both to have it, if she had known.”

“You might be able to get it all awarded to you, if you went to court.”

“Melanie!” Mary Beth shook her head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Melanie would never understand her. It was no use. “I don’t want to go to court. Not over this or anything. I’m not trying to keep all of it. I think it’s right that we both share it.”

“What about your shop? If you had all of the money, you could buy it, and your troubles would be over.”

Mary Beth chuckled. “Troubles are never really over. Not in this world. And yes, if I had all the money, I could probably buy the whole building and let the theater next door pay me rent. That way I’d have enough to stay afloat during the lean times, no matter how the shop does. But it doesn’t belong to me. At least I don’t think it should. It belongs to both of us. You’re welcome to have it appraised by someone yourself if you don’t think my appraiser gave us a fair value.”

“I’ll certainly do that.” Melanie’s voice was taut and businesslike again. “Now, if that’s all, I have a premiere to get to. Goodbye.”

There was a click and then a dial tone. Mary Beth put her phone back in the charger and sat there for a long time, just watching the dusk turn to pitch black.

20

As promised, Melanie sent her own appraiser to look over the jewelry. His estimate of the value of the jewels was fairly close to the one Mary Beth had gotten from Mrs. Banks and which seemed quite satisfactory to the company that now insured the collection. Mary Beth had also consulted an attorney regarding the legal and tax ramifications of the find. She could hardly believe it was worth over a half-million dollars.

It was too bad she couldn’t buy just the portion of the building that housed A Stitch in Time and not worry about the part where the theater was. Her part of the treasure would be enough to cover just the shop. But Mr. Huggins needed to sell the whole thing. Mr. Li, who rented the theater, had no way of buying that part of the building himself.

“If I can’t buy both, Mr. Huggins will have no choice but to sell the whole thing to the Burly Boy people,” she told the members of the Hook and Needle Club on the last Tuesday of the month, “and I can’t buy both.”

“Oh Mary Beth, what will you do?” Peggy wadded her appliquéd quilt block in her lap, almost pricking herself with her needle. “I thought will all that money …”

Mary Beth got up to pick up the mail that had come through the slot in the front door. “It’s still six days until the end of the month. I’ll have to see what happens. Meanwhile, I’ve looked around a little bit. There’s a little storefront in Pleasant Point that I could probably afford. The money does make it easier.”

“Pleasant Point,” half a dozen voices moaned at once.

“That’s miles away,” Gwen said. “We couldn’t be running over there all the time like we do now.”

“I know I couldn’t come for meetings,” Peggy said. “I’d no sooner get there than I’d have to come right back to work.”

Mary Beth dredged up a cheerful smile as she flipped through the day’s bills and advertisements. “I know it’s not as good as being right next door to The Cup & Saucer, Peggy. Sometimes we …”

In with the rest of the mail was a letter from Mr. Huggins. She had read through half of it before she realized what it was saying.

“What is it, Mary Beth?” Annie looked concerned. “Are you OK?”

“It’s from Mr. Huggins. He says he has a buyer for the theater property if I’m willing to buy this part of it myself.” She sank down into her chair in the sewing circle. “And the price is a little less than I thought it might be.”

All the ladies started talking at once, but Mary Beth didn’t hear much of what they were saying. There was more in the letter.

“Will you have enough for it?” Annie asked. “You look worried.”

Mary Beth glanced up at her, knowing she must be pale as a ghost. There was no way any blood could possibly make it past the tightness in her throat into her face.

“I just can’t—”

She handed the letter to Annie, who scanned it briefly.

“Oh Mary Beth. It’s wonderful.”

The other ladies crowded around. “What?
What
?”

“‘The proposed buyer of the other part of the property,’” Annie read, “‘is looking for a small investment. The buyer would like to continue renting that part of the property to the Bijou Theater but doesn’t want to be involved in property management. The buyer would like to know if you …’” Annie looked up at Mary Beth. “‘… if you would be interested in managing the theater property in exchange for a percentage of the rental.’ That couldn’t take very much work, could it?”

“No. No, Mr. Huggins says Mr. Li who runs the theater is a wonderful tenant. There are never any problems. He always pays on time.” Mary Beth couldn’t keep a tremor out of her voice. “Read the rest, Annie. The last part.”

“‘If this is something that interests you, please let me know as soon as possible, and I will arrange a meeting between us and the proposed buyer of the other part of the property, Ms. Melanie Martinelli.’”

Mary Beth buried her face in her hands and wept. It was as close to an apology as her sister was ever likely to give.

****

Mary Beth had to wait until she had closed the shop and had gone home before she was sure she could call Melanie to discuss the Mr. Huggins’s letter. She knew her sister didn’t like anyone to gush, and that’s what she felt like doing every time she thought about what Melanie had done.

Melanie picked up the phone on the first ring. “Hello?”

Her voice was as crisp and businesslike as it had been the last time Mary Beth had spoken to her.

“Hi. It’s Mary Beth again. Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No, it’s … it’s not a bad time. I just got in. For once, I’m going to have a quiet evening at home, alone.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Melanie paused for a second. “I think it’s time I slowed down a little, you know?”

“Maybe you should take some time off. Maybe visit family or something.”

Mary Beth let the subtle invitation hang there for a moment, but Melanie evidently wasn’t quite ready for that.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Not much,” Mary Beth told her. “I just got home myself, and a quiet evening sounds great to me too. I wanted to let you know I got a letter from Mr. Huggins about the property. Are you really sure this is what you want to do? I mean, owning our little one-screen theater isn’t exactly what I’d call glamorous.”

“It’s what I want to do only if you’ll agree to manage the property. Mr. Huggins said the tenant is very reliable.”

“That’s what I’ve heard as well. But you don’t need to cut me in on your profits. I’m just next door. I can see to things for you pretty easily. It’s the least I can do since you’ll be making it possible for me to keep my shop.” Mary Beth laughed. “And you’ll be sparing all of us a twenty-four-hour Burly Boy’s Burger Barn.”

“I suppose I will be bringing progress in your little town to a grinding halt,” Melanie said with an overly dramatic sigh, but Mary Beth could hear the smile in her voice too. “But then again, being stuck somewhere in the
Leave It to Beaver
era is part of the appeal of the place, isn’t it? I mean—to some people.”

“
Some people
love it here and are very happy to be able to stay. And I mean that sincerely. Thank you.”

“Just a business transaction,” Melanie said, her voice again brisk. “Besides, I know we’re both planning to leave everything to Amy. She might have plans of her own for the place one day.”

“Yes, I suppose she might.”

“I told her about it the other night,” Melanie said abruptly. “About buying the place.”

“Oh really? What did she say when you called her.”

“She called me. She just wanted to talk, and we did for a while. I … I thought it was kind of nice.”

Mary Beth felt a smile tug at her lips. “I’m glad.”

“I suppose you got her to do that.”

“We did talk about it,” Mary Beth admitted, “but she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t want to.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, I told her about buying the theater up there and everything. I mean, it was really her idea in the first place, and I thought it would be nice for her to know we cooperated on something for once in our lives. It’s going to be strictly business though.” Melanie’s voice lost the touch of softness that had crept into it. “That’s the only way to handle family-related investments. Everything has to be aboveboard and set down in writing.”

“That suits me,” Mary Beth said, making her own voice businesslike. There was only so much mush Melanie could tolerate in one evening.

“And you will accept a percentage of the rental in payment for managing the theater property. I expect you to sign a contract so there won’t be any misunderstandings that this is strictly a business arrangement.”

Mary Beth could only nod. That little extra was Melanie’s way of making sure her sister was taken care of.

“Are you there, Mary Beth?”

“Yes,” Mary Beth squeaked, and then she cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m here. And yes, I’ll be happy to sign whatever agreement you want.”

“Well, I’ll have my attorneys see to everything, and we’ll get it taken care of at the same time we do the closing, if that’s not a problem.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” Mary Beth paused. “And Mel?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Mary Beth heard the line click and then a dial tone, but she was almost sure that, right before then, she heard a soft, “Love you too.”

****

The following Saturday night, Frank Sanders showed up late for his usual poker game. He’d had a rotten day at the shop, and now his car was giving him fits. All he needed was to lose a bundle in tonight’s game to round things off.

The battered round table and mismatched chairs were the best features of Dave Avery’s cluttered den, but at least the place was comfortable. More importantly, Dave’s wife didn’t seem to object to having visitors most Saturday nights, and Dave and his friends had a regular place to play.

Once he was inside, Sanders shut the door behind him. “Sorry I’m late, guys.”

Squinting through his thick glasses, Eric nodded a welcome, but Scott was too busy raking in his winnings to do more than glance up and grumble, “About time.”

Murphy lumbered to his feet and made a low bow. “His Majesty arrives.”

Frank responded with a pained smile. “Funny.”

“Hey, Frank.” Dave pushed back the empty chair next to him and lifted one bushy eyebrow. “We thought maybe you got hit by a bus.”

Frank dropped into his seat and anted up with the others. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Now you get to pay up on our little agreement.” Dave grinned as he dealt Sanders in. “Big bucks, remember?”

“Yeah, uh, that deal I was hoping for didn’t quite pan out. You’re going to have to settle for the usual until I win the lottery or something.”

Sanders picked up his cards. Queen, king and ten of diamonds. Four of spades. Eight of clubs. He and three of the others tossed a few bucks into the pot. Eric folded.

“Cards?” Dave asked.

“Three,” said Murphy.

“Yeah, three,” said Scott.

Frank put the eight and the four facedown on the table and slid them over to Dave. “Give me two.”

“All right.” Dave dealt them their cards. “And the dealer takes one.”

Eric chuckled. “Looks like it might be Dave who’s about to win the lottery.”

Dave grinned as he looked at his hand. “Yeah, that’d be the life. A big windfall, no matter where it’s from, sure wouldn’t hurt. I read this morning about some woman up the coast who found half a million in old jewelry. It’d been in the family for years, and nobody knew about it.”

Sanders kept his jaws clamped together and didn’t look up. Why couldn’t stuff like that ever happen to him? Even when he knew he was onto a sure thing, it always seemed to go wrong.

He picked up one of the cards he’d just been dealt. Ace of diamonds. His pulse picked up its pace, but he kept his face carefully blank. Maybe at last he was going to have something good happen. Scott and Murphy both threw in their hands in disgust.

“Heh heh, dumb luck wins every time, doesn’t it?” Eric shook his head. “Still, how could she not know? I mean, if those jewels were sitting around all that time. Must’ve had a pretty stupid bunch of relatives. Where was it?”

Sanders picked up his last card, still not looking at it.
Jack of diamonds. Be the jack of diamonds.

“It was in the bottom of some old clock of hers,” Dave said.

Sanders froze. “What?”

“Yeah. The paper says it’d been there since before the Civil War. Can you imagine? Now the old biddy’s set for life.”

Frank’s fingers squeezed into a fist, crumpling his still unseen card. “Wh—where was this?”

Dave shrugged. “I dunno. Somewhere up the coast.” He rummaged in a pile of newspaper on the floor next to him and then tossed one section onto the table in front of Sanders. “Read for yourself.”

Sanders’s eyes started to burn.
STONY POINT WOMAN FINDS ANTIQUE TREASURE
. And there was a picture of that Brock woman standing there holding a fortune in diamonds and pearls and rubies with that miserable clock on the mantel behind her. He scanned the article.

Mary Beth Brock of Stony Point never knew there was a fortune in the family … hidden in the clock for over 150 years … clues were hidden in various antique items passed down from her great-great-grandmother Angeline… solved with the help of her friends Annie Dawson and Alice MacFarlane … jewels were appraised at more than a half-million dollars.

More than a half-million dollars.

Sanders closed his eyes, wondering if he was going to burst out laughing or just be sick. He’d had it in his hands. Over half a million bucks right in his hands, and he’d let a bunch of old women con him out of it. Of all the—

He wiped the cold sweat off his upper lip and realized he still had that last card crumpled in his fist. Finally, he looked at it. Nine of hearts. A useless old nine of hearts.

Murphy elbowed him. “Hey, you gonna play or meditate?”

Sanders threw his hand onto the table. “I fold.”

“Come to papa,” Dave crowed, raking in his winnings.

Eric started shuffling the deck. “Must be all kinds of stuff squirreled away in clocks and tins and things all over the country. Old furniture sometimes has a lot of hidey-holes. You see much of that in your business, Frank? … Frank?”

Sanders tossed in his ante. “Shut up and deal.”

****

“You’re all still here!”

Mary Beth hurried into A Stitch in Time carrying a large white envelope with the name of a local title company blazoned in red across it. It was fairly bursting with papers. So much had happened in the weeks since Annie had found that first little key.

Annie pulled her over into the circle of chairs where she and the other members of the Hook and Needle Club had been packing up their things.

“We weren’t about to leave until you got back. How did it go?”

Before Mary Beth could answer, the bell on the front door jingled, and Ian Butler hurried in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your meeting, but I saw you were back, and I thought I’d come over and congratulate you. Everything go as planned?”

Mary Beth patted the bulging envelope. “It’s all legal. I own the shop, Melanie owns the theater, and I have no more money troubles.” She grinned. “
If
I’m careful. Oh, and Mr. Huggins said his wife is doing really well now. She had her surgery two weeks ago, and rehab is going great. He looked a lot less worried than I’ve seen him in a long, long time.”