The Old House (18 page)

He took it from her unresisting hands and lifted the lid. “Junk,” he proclaimed. “Don't know why women have to save all this kind of stuff.” He handed it back to her. “Throw all that out and put your own junk in it, girl.”

Buddy picked out a pair of earrings that didn't look like junk to her. “They're for pierced ears.
Dad would never let me pierce mine. He said not until I was fifteen. And here's a . . . I think it's a hat pin.”

“Sister wears hats to church sometimes,” Grandpa said. “You think your little brother would like a collection of butterflies? They're under glass, so they're not dusty.”

“Hey, Buddy,” Max called, “aren't you going to come help go through these? I think there's things we can use here.”

“Coming,” Buddy called, then closed the lid on the box to examine its contents later. “Do you really want to sort out your things, Grandpa? And get rid of some of them? Would you like me to help you?” What better way, Buddy thought, to look for the money that might still be resting in all this confusion? If Mama hadn't taken it, as she was sure was the case, where else would it have gone except into a crevice in this mountain of objects?

“Would you?” Grandpa sounded pleased. “Not much in here I really want to keep. Not since I can't see it any longer.”

On impulse, Buddy paused on her way out of the room. “Grandpa, do you remember a
flowered bag, probably about so big,” she gestured with her hands, “that you put all the money in when you sold the store?”

For a moment the old man's face twisted in puzzlement, and then it cleared. “Oh. Sort of purplish, was it? No, Sister says lavender, not purple. Had pinkish flowers on it.”

Buddy was holding her breath. “Yes, I think so. Do you remember having the money in it?”

He looked thoughtful. “Lot of money, wasn't it? Little stacks, with paper bands around each pile.”

By this time, Buddy's chest had begun to ache from the tension.
Please, God, make him remember! Don't let him forget again!

“Yes,” she breathed. “I think the bag was full.”

But already Grandpa was scowling, as if the effort of recalling was painful. “They kept asking me about it. That silly-looking bag, like something a little girl would carry her doll clothes in. Sister was upset.” Suddenly he looked straight at Buddy, as if he could see her clearly, as if his mind had miraculously cleared of the fog that covered it so much of the time. “I wasn't supposed to have given it to her, was I?”

Buddy's
words came in little more than a whisper. “Who did you give it to, Grandpa?”

To her dismay, she could see that so quickly the clarity was fading. “Wasn't it you, Sister?”

“I'm Buddy—Amy Kate,” she explained desperately. “Grandpa, did you give it to my mother? To EllaBelle?”

“She needed it to carry something. I forget what. She said she'd bring it back. I think she said she'd bring it back. Only I don't remember if she ever did. She probably forgot, and I didn't want it, anyway.”

Max appeared in the doorway, his mouth opening to speak, and Buddy frantically motioned him to be still. He hesitated, with his jaw sagging, but he didn't interrupt.

“When you gave her the bag, was the money still in it?” Buddy asked urgently. “Or had you taken it out first?”

“Oh, she didn't want the money. Only the little bag. The empty bag. To carry her letters in. She found them in the attic.”

Max had caught on to what they were talking about, and though he closed his mouth, he looked almost as stunned as Buddy was feeling.

“Letters,” Buddy choked. “
Mama put some letters into the bag. And what did you do with the money?”

Grandpa put a hand on the activating button on his talking watch. “The time is 10:22 p.m.,” the mechanical voice said. And Grandpa's memory faded off into nothingness. “Could we have cocoa before we go to bed?” he asked.

In the small silence that followed, they heard Cassie somewhere off in the distance. “Haven't those kids stopped poking around in Grandpa's old books and headed for bed yet?”

Nobody reacted to her voice. But Max ran his tongue over his lips and took a step closer to Buddy. “He remembered taking the money out of the bag before he gave it to your mom.”

Buddy's voice cracked when she replied. “Yeah. But he doesn't know what they did with it.”

Exultation swept over Max's face. “Right. But if it wasn't in the bag when your mother took that away, then it's probably still right here somewhere. In this room. Don't you think?”

Buddy stared around the room that was packed almost solid with boxes and junk.

“The time,” said the tinny mechanical voice, “is 10:25 p.m.”

Grandpa was moving toward the doorway, having lost interest in whatever they were saying. Or perhaps he simply couldn't hear them because they were speaking quietly.

Max moved out of the old man's way, his gaze fixed on Buddy while he absently scratched behind the kitten's ears. “It sounds like you were right. Your mom
didn't
steal anything. She just took the bag and left the money behind, only Grandpa forgot about it when Cassie and Addie asked him. He probably doesn't have a clue where it is. But we could look for it.”

He followed Buddy's
gaze over paper bags filled, with clothes and books and heaven knew what else, and all the cartons they'd been looking through for Montana history books. “It might take weeks to go through all this stuff.”

“Do you think we should tell Aunt Cassie and Aunt Addie? That it's probably here somewhere, not permanently lost after all?”

Max considered for only a moment. “Maybe not. I'm not sure they'd believe us, anyway. Let's look for it ourselves. That way we won't get them all excited for nothing if we can't find it.”

“How are we going to do that without everyone knowing what we're doing?” Buddy asked.

“We could offer to clean up this room, sort things out. Cassie's always saying what a mess it is, fussing because Grandpa won't let her touch anything.” Max's mouth twisted wryly. “You'd have to be the one to suggest it. She'd never believe
I
would tackle that much work on my own. She might believe I'd help you.”

Scanning the room, Buddy sighed. “It's a
big job. But if the money's still here, we have to find it.” Excitement began building in her. Maybe she could prove that Mama was innocent of stealing Grandpa's money! “Let's try, okay?”

Not mentioning it turned out to be almost more than Buddy could manage. Max was right, though: Why get everybody's hopes up before they knew the money was still on the premises? Who knew what might have happened to it in more than two years? Grandpa might have thrown it away with the trash without realizing what he was doing.

But Buddy couldn't allow herself to think that way. She
had
to clear her mother's memory. And she would find the money. She hated the fact that she had to concentrate the rest of the week on writing the essay about Montana history, and on other homework, but she didn't dare
not
do it, and Max was busy with his, too.

On Friday evening, over an excellent supper of broiled salmon and herbed scalloped potatoes, Buddy took a deep breath as soon as Gus had left the table—he usually left, without excusing himself, before the others were finished—
and spoke the words she'd been rehearsing since Tuesday night.

“Aunt Cassie, is it all right with you if I help Grandpa straighten up his room? He stumbled over a box this afternoon, and I thought maybe if nothing was sticking out to trip him, it might be safer.”

Cassie and Addie both stopped eating to stare at her, then at the old man. “That all right with you, Grandpa?” Cassie asked.

“I guess it's time I got rid of some of that stuff,” Grandpa said, as if Cassie had never pestered him to do it before. “No sense waiting for it all to be pitched out after the funeral.”

“What funeral?” Max blurted, then flushed as Grandpa responded offhandedly.

“Mine, of course. Going to happen one of these days, though old George Hubbard is going on a hundred and one, he told me. 'Course, he's not blind, so he can still read and go for walks by himself without getting lost. I got my hymns picked out, Sister. ‘Rock of Ages' and ‘Fly Away.'” He sang a bar of the latter. “‘When I die, Glory Alleluia, by and by, I'll fly away!' Only need two, don't I?”

For a moment there was a disconcerted silence at the idea of Grandpa planning his own funeral service. Then Addie cleared her throat and agreed. “Sounds about right,” she said. “I'll remember to tell Pastor.”

Buddy was disconcerted along with everyone else, but she didn't want to get off the subject that was important to her. “It's all right, then? If I reorganize everything? I figured maybe Max would help me lift and move the heavy stuff.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Max said, trying to sound reluctant. After all, he didn't want to seem too much out of character.

Right then the phone rang. Buddy didn't care about the interruption, since she apparently had permission to start poking around in Grandpa's room. She held her breath, though, when Max went to answer it, hoping it might be Bart. He was going to call when her dad was finally released from the hospital.

Max returned, looking at Cassie. “It's Mrs. Boardman. She wants to know can you come over and help her? Her father-in-law fell down the back steps, and they think he broke his hip.”

“Oh, Lordy,”
Cassie said, forgetting her dinner. “Tell her I'll be right there.”

And so it was that on Saturday morning, Cassie went to Kalispell, driving the car with the new tires on it, to bring Mrs. Boardman home after she'd ridden over to the hospital in the ambulance with her father-in-law. And Addie was preparing to leave for her stint at the library. She looked at Buddy and Max and Grandpa uneasily. “Can you two keep track of him all day by yourselves?” Gus was not yet down for breakfast, but everyone knew
he
wasn't going to be of any help. “Don't leave him alone.”

“He can help us,” Max said cheerfully. “You can sit in your chair, Grandpa, and tell us which things to throw away and which ones to keep.”

“I suppose,” Grandpa said, “we could give most of my books to the library, unless Sister wants them.”

Addie nodded. “Good idea. Stack all the book boxes in the dining room, and I'll sort them out later.”

And then they were left on their own with
a whole, glorious expanse of time to search for the missing money.

Buddy had hoped it would be somewhere near at hand, perhaps having been dumped into a paper bag, whatever had come easily when they wanted to empty the carrying case. But for three hours they pawed through useless, worn-out items of no value whatever. Max went over to the grocery store with the wagon and came back with big boxes so they could pack up the things worth keeping. And he had one box from neighbors in which a new big-screen TV had arrived. They put that on the back porch for the items to be carried to the dump.

At noon they were dirty and tired. They fixed lunch and went back to their task, trying not to become discouraged. Grandpa, after listening to his talking clock, decided he would take a nap, but they didn't stop working. Unless they yelled, it wasn't likely they'd disturb his sleep.

Once in a while one of them turned up something interesting to remark upon, like a collection of miniature ship models thrown
helter-skelter together in an oatmeal box. Max decided to ask for them when Grandpa woke up. Mostly, they opened up and hauled out stuff that nobody would have wanted.

Late in the afternoon Max collapsed on yet another box of books and wiped a hand across his face, leaving a dirty smear. “Let's take a break. You want a can of pop?”

“Sure,” Buddy said, subdued. “I thought we'd find it before this, if it's here.” Her eyes stung. “It
has
to be here, doesn't it? But how can we guess where he'd have put it? His mind wasn't very clear even then, was it?”

“Apparently not. I know they asked him about the money quite a few times after your mom was here and had left, and he never remembered anything about it.” Max's voice drifted back from the kitchen. “Is a Coke okay?”

He brought back two cans, popping hers open before he handed it to her. He took a long swig, and then said in a strange voice, “Hey, Buddy.”

“What?”

“Maybe we're the ones who aren't thinking
too straight. Maybe Grandpa couldn't keep track of things a couple of years ago, but your mom could. Do you think she'd have taken a lot of cash out of that carrying bag and just let him dump it any old place? Where it could get lost?”

Buddy's heart seemed to stop. She set down the pop can because she could hardly hold it. “No, of course not. She wasn't stupid.”

“Then what would she have done with it?”

“Something sensible. Whatever it was, I'd have expected her to tell Cassie, or Addie, but apparently she didn't.”

“Do we know if they were here when she left?”

Buddy tried to remember what Addie had said. “Somebody saw the flowered bag in Mama's car on her way out of town. Mr. Faulkner, the school principal, I think. Addie thinks he's an idiot, but she says he wouldn't lie.”

“But by the time he saw her, she was leaving town, and she'd taken the money out of the flowered bag and put it somewhere else.
Where?
”

“I thought you kids were watching Grandpa!”

Addie's
voice was sharp, and they swung around to face the door. Grandpa's bed was rumpled and empty.

Buddy jumped up so quickly, she nearly knocked over her pop can, catching it just in time. “Oh, no! He was sleeping just a minute ago—”

“He's turning up the thermostat right now. Didn't you notice how hot it was getting in here?” It was quite clear that Addie was annoyed with them.