Treasure Me (35 page)

Birdie gaped at her.

“Lord and Jezebel—didn’t you find the last clue?”

Birdie shook her head with amusement. Geez, how could she be so stupid? The box she’d dug up was old, an antique from Justice’s time. But the message inside? She withdrew the slip of paper from her pocket.

The damn clue was written on a Post-it note.

“I don’t know about Justice,” she said, handing it over, “But I’m pretty sure I got a dose of Theodora. Nice work.”

The old woman stuck her corncob pipe in her mouth, struck a match… and winked.

Delighted, Birdie motioned for the pipe and took a long drag. Smoke poured down her throat.

Gagging, she thrust the pipe back. “There are some things we’ll
never
share. Yuck.”

“At least share one secret. How did you know about Liberty and the cherished heart?”

“From the slip of parchment handed down in my family—
Liberty safeguards the cherished heart
. How do
you
know about it?”

“From Justice, of course.” Theodora blew out a puff of smoke, her dark eyes awash with merriment. “Birdie, your branch of the family tree got bits and pieces of the story. My branch got a sight more—her diary. Damn informative book.”

“Justice left a diary?”

“With a request on the last page she hoped her descendants—me and my kin—would one day fulfill. She was mighty upset when Lucas came to Liberty, half dead from the war and a weakening constitution.”

“Why was Justice upset that he’d followed her to Liberty?”

“Molly, of course.”

“My great-grandmother?”

Theodora nodded. “Molly was a wee thing when Lucas enlisted with the Confederates. He left her with kin when Southern pride sent him off to fight in a war he never believed in. He’d given Justice two bags of rubies to take north. Two bags—understand? ‘Course you know Justice loved Molly. She’d helped Lucas raise the child after his wife died.”

Birdie hung on every word. “One of the bags of rubies was meant for Molly?” A wave of affection for Justice swept through her.

“Justice promised Lucas she’d get the jewels to his daughter if he didn’t survive the war. He
did
make it through and died right here, in Liberty.” Sorrow filtered across Theodora’s face. “Afterward, Justice spent years trying to find the girl, but people were displaced. The South was a shambles. Safe here in Ohio, Justice grew wealthy in her own right. By the time she found the girl’s whereabouts, my granddaddy, Theodore, was a young man.”

“Theodore went looking for Molly?”

“With a letter written in a sort of code by his mother.”

Breathless, Birdie neared. “A letter filled with clues so Molly would know where the rubies were buried.”

“She was a young woman by then, living with an uncle in Savannah—a despicable man. He took one look at the Negro calling on his niece and tore up the letter.” Theodora glanced at her appraisingly. “I suspect your great-grandma was a mite resourceful. She must’ve got hold of a scrap of the letter—the slip of parchment handed down in your family.”

Stunned, Birdie stepped away to look off over the trees. What if Justice’s portrait and the remaining clues had been lost? Molly’s bit of parchment wouldn’t have been enough to find the rubies. She recalled what Theodora had told her on the day they met—just last year, Finney dug the portrait out of the storeroom and put it back up in the restaurant with the clue safely tucked inside—

She spun on her heel. “If you knew about the clues, why didn’t you follow them to the rubies?”

Theodora snorted. “Have you gone stupid? I found the loot when Eisenhower was president.”

“But the clues were left in place. I found them all—”

“You found them because of my daughter, Belinda,” Theodora cut in. “The one they call Ruby? When she was a wee thing, she begged me to put the clues back. She was sure a lost relation would arrive someday in search of the gems.”

“Wasn’t she worried about sharing them?”

“You fool, she didn’t care about the rubies. She cared about finding our lost kin.”

Something heavy and surprisingly sweet wove through the old woman’s voice, and Birdie’s heart overturned. Even if Theodora had cashed in the gems long ago, did it matter? The clues were put back in place in hopes of reuniting the family. Theodora’s daughter, Ruby, had dreamt of finding her long-lost relatives—of finding Birdie.

What did she get for her troubles? She’d been rewarded with a relative who’d arrived in Liberty with greed in her heart and as much family feeling as you’d find in a slug. Embarrassed, Birdie turned back toward the trees and the dawn filtering over the forest. Ruby deserved better. She deserved a relation she could be proud of, not a petty thief who’d arrived merely for financial gain.

Theodora, as wise and noble as a goddamn Sphinx, seemed aware of the shame washing over her. With a grunt, she said, “Stop beating yourself up—don’t you know that’s my job? Not that I’m of the mind to do so presently. Maybe you’re not what I had in mind for a relative but you aren’t half bad.”

“I’m
all
bad. I don’t have the right to be part of a family as nice as yours.”

Considering, Theodora tamped out the ash smoldering in her pipe. “Where’s the key?” she asked suddenly.

Birdie dug it from her pocket. She tried to hand it over but was waved off.

“About keys,” Theodora said, screwing her hat down on her forehead, “they unlock more than doors and the occasional safe-box. Keep it, child. There’s all sort of things inside yourself you might unlock. Good things.”

Birdie tried for a cheeky comeback but she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. Yes, she wanted to find her better angels. She wanted to find them even if they were buried so deep it would take a lifetime to unearth them. The path her parents had taken through life was filled with sorrow. She wanted something better.

She brushed at her eyes, which were suddenly damp. “How do you start?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m not sure how.”

Theodora approached. “I’ll help you. We all will—me and my kin. Your kin.” She gazed up at Birdie with the map-work of lines on her face easing and the gleam in her eyes increasing. “You are a treasure, child. Bad-mouthed and sassy and more fun than a woman my age ought to have. But there it is.”

A breezy anticipation rushed through Birdie, a sudden, startling sensation that she was
soaring
, high above the treetops and the oppressive worries of her life. “Thanks.”

“Welcome to the family. My kids are itchin’ to meet you. Plan on coming this Sunday for dinner, okay?” Taking her by the hand, Theodora started down the incline. “By the way, I keep both bags of rubies in a safety deposit box at Liberty Trust.”

Birdie scudded to a halt. “You do?”

Theodora tugged her forward. “We’ll stop on our way to Landon’s house. He’s expecting us.”

“He is?”

“I hope he’s got an ice cold Bud with my name on it. Lord, I’m thirsty.”

“It’s not even eight o’clock. How can you think about beer?” A wave of apprehension brought her to a standstill. “What about Meade? I’m not going to Landon’s house if his daughter—”

“Stop fretting!” Theodora stomped her foot. “Don’t you know it jangles my nerves? Let’s mosey down to the bank and fetch your inheritance.”

Birdie’s eyes rounded.

Inheritance?

A smile lit Theodora’s face, her fake teeth poking out with the extent of her glee. “Birdie, one of the bags of rubies is yours. Justice would’ve given anything to get them to your great-grandmother. She died hoping that one day Molly would get a fresh start in life.”

She paused long enough for the elation swimming through Birdie to lift skyward, like a song. “Funny how life works out,” she added. “Fact is you’ll be the one using the gems to start your life over.”

Clumps of snow landed on the library’s carpet as Theodora brushed the white from her shoulders. “Reenie, do you have beer?” she asked the housekeeper while Birdie looked around at the rich furnishings with amazement.

Reenie nodded. “I took the liberty of pouring a Bud for you when I heard your car.” She paused at the French doors. “I’ll tell Mr. Williams you’ve arrived.”

After she’d gone, Theodora spied the frothy glass on an end table beside a Queen Anne chair. “Thank the Lord. And Reenie, of course. The world would be a sorry place if the road wasn’t paved with beer.”

“If the road
were
paved with beer, you’d be standing in it.”

“Settle down, girl. Have a little patience.”

Patience?

The morning had already provided a roller coaster of emotional experiences. The biggest so far occurred at the bank, when Theodora rented a second safety deposit box then placed the heavy bag in Birdie’s hands. The rubies, recently appraised, were worth a quarter of a million dollars.

The number was impossible to comprehend. Birdie was still trying to grapple with the sea change in her circumstances. Yet her elation vanished the moment Theodora parked her Cadillac before the brick mansion where Landon Williams lived.

Now she was terrified. Maybe she could handle running into the man, but his daughter? Contrary to Theodora’s opinion, Meade
was
a dangerous enemy.

“I still don’t have any idea why we’re here.” Birdie shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll apologize to Landon for everything my mother did. Or I’ll try—after I go home and wash up. I’m covered in dirt from the cave.”

Under her breath, Theodora murmured, “Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

Birdie tried to calm down. She was stuck here and she knew it.

Reluctantly, she recalled the photographs she’d glimpsed at Meade’s office. At some time during her childhood, she’d known Landon. The fretful child she’d once been had contentedly sat on his lap and smiled up into his beaming face. Was he Paw Paw, the man who’d shown her kindness during the dawning years of her life?

Pacing before the mile-high shelves of books, she frowned at the confusing mix of emotions welling in her chest. Delight at the possibilities for the better life the gems represented. Trepidation over the reception she’d receive from Landon. And bone-deep terror over the prospect of running into Meade.

She picked up a crystal vase from one of the shelves and turned it over in her hands. “I take it Landon is rich,” she said, her stomach twisting in knots. She returned the surprisingly heavy crystal to the shelf.

“He’s done well for himself.” Cocking a brow, Theodora lifted her glass and sipped. The line of foam on her lips made a none-too-attractive mustache. “Would you like a drink?”

“At ten in the morning? Pass.”

“You sound like Meade, griping about the hour and whether it’s a proper time for libations. Why can’t young people
relax?
Would you at least sit down?”

“I’m safer on my feet.” She smiled gamely. “If Meade shows up and hurls something in my direction, I’ll need to move fast.”

“How ridiculous,” Theodora said, as if Meade wasn’t a clear and present danger. Raising her glass, she added, “Fine drink, beer. Won’t you join me?”

“No!”

From the doorway, a silvery voice said, “I’ll have a beer with you, Theodora.”

Birdie’s guts swam with fear as Meade swept into the room. A bizarre yipping followed her stiletto heels, and a miniature white poodle trotted close behind. Some maniac had outfitted the pooch in a doll-size green jacket, red pants and bow tie. He was a pint-sized Christmas elf, with fur.

“What the hell is that?” Birdie asked before she had the sense to stop herself.

Meade paused by the wet bar and gave her the once over. “On second thought, a martini is in order.” She reached for the bottle of Skyy.

Somehow Birdie found the courage to ditch her fear. “It’s nice to see you too. Should we pick up where we left off last night? Got any boxing gloves in the house?” If rudeness was the game of the day, two could play as easily as one. “What the hell’s in a martini anyway?”

“Vodka, vermouth—need one? You can show me your right hook later.”

“Count on it. And yeah—fix me up. Are those olives? Load my glass with five or six.” The dog sniffed at Birdie’s muddy tennis shoes and she leapt back. “Call your beast off me. He can’t have sex with my Nikes.”

Theodora belched. “The dog isn’t particular. The scoundrel will hump anything that’s not moving.”

“He’s merely enthusiastic.” Meade flourished a crystal goblet beneath Birdie’s nose. “Your drink.”

She walked to the couch with the poodle hot on her trail. “Beat it,” she muttered, seating herself. The demand brought a
yip
of protest. The dog leapt into her lap, nearly spilling her drink. “Sweet baby,” Birdie cooed, and the rakish dog tipped his head to the side. “Are you only allowed to play with doggies from the right side of town?”

Meade stiffened. “I’m not a snob even if I do prefer to avoid the undesirable element. People like you—and your mother.”

“Leave my mother out of this,” Birdie said, steering the poodle from her lap. He obediently sat on the cushion next to hers and licked her hand. Maybe she’d knock Meade down, and keep the damn poodle out of spite. He
was
cute. “I don’t excuse Wish. I’m sorry for everything she did to your family, but I won’t sit here and let you insult her.”

“Enough already,” Theodora put in.

Scowling, Meade took a sip of her martini. “Theodora, I’ll grant you’ve been a good friend to my father. While I have no idea what you discussed with him last night, I’m willing to wait for his so-called news. Just don’t expect me to feel anything but contempt for… her.” She jerked her drink toward Birdie, who was beginning to feel as small as the poodle.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Theodora snapped. “This meeting was his idea.”

Birdie looked from one to the other. “Why are we having a meeting?”

But no one heard the question. Meade placed her drink on the wet bar and rushed across the room.

Landon Williams paused in the doorway looking broken and worn. Pity swept through Birdie. His grey suit was roomy and dated. The silk cravat at his neck seemed a sweetly overdone gesture as pathetic as the poodle’s bow tie.