First Street in Snohomish is packed with antiques stores of all kinds, from furniture to clothing to knickknacks. The old buildings are antiques themselves -- the real thing, complete with creaky, uneven floors and high ceilings with exposed ductwork to accommodate modern conveniences like heating. The historic district hugs the Snohomish River on the north side. Most of the time the river meanders its lazy way toward Puget Sound a few miles to the west. Occasionally, in the late winter or early spring, the river exceeds its banks. If you go down to the narrow park on the river bank behind the shops you can see the high-water marks painted on the foundations of some of the buildings, along with the dates of the floods. Fortunately, the sloping terrain has spared the beautiful old homes and cottages surrounding the downtown area -- my house included.
I thought we'd be wandering aimlessly through the shops scouting for appropriate items, but Andrea had arrived with a plan. She zeroed in on our first stop, a furniture store, and bought the three huge, matching antique chandeliers. After arranging for their shipping, she herded us to the next shop like she was rehearsing for the role of perky activities director on a cruise line. Our assignment was to scout for items she could make use of for the restaurant. She even gave us lists -- like a scavenger hunt -- with everything from flower vases to salt and pepper shakers. Mother took the bit in her teeth and unearthed an admittedly stunning mahogany hutch with leaded-glass doors. Andrea, elated, swore she'd be able to find a use for it, even if it was in the back office. I suspected it was an item she'd end up returning. She couldn't say I didn't warn her about Mother's persuasiveness.
I kept an eye out for items for myself, too. How could I help it? If you have even a marginal appreciation for antiques, browsing in the Antiques Capital of the Northwest is going to have you imagining ways to fit the odd piece or two into your own home. Andrea didn't miss any of my longing gazes. The only way I was able to stop her from offering to buy me everything I paused at was to remind her, away from Mother's eagle-ear, how I'd tromped all over Paul's toes months ago by not letting him have a say in what our home together looked like. He'd equated my solo-decorating with a reluctance to commit to him. Men. Go figure.
Mother, unlike me, didn't get distracted from Andrea's objective and waste her effort looking for pieces she could ship home to San Francisco. I had to hand it to her. Give the woman a task, and nothing got in her way of accomplishing it. When she spotted a cache of antique china and flatware she very nearly clutched her chest and fell to the ground in ecstasy.
Andrea gushed right along with her while sliding in an explanation of the sterilization process all dishes and flatware had to go through at a commercial restaurant. Mother changed course, advising against using such delicate, irreplaceable pieces.
I held back a chuckle. My friend's subtlety reminded me of the way Uncle Henry allowed each horse he rode the freedom to figure out exactly what he wanted without exerting overt influence every step of the way. Horses and people were not so different. Andrea would make an excellent rider, if she ever felt so inclined.
For the moment, all was right with the world. I caught Aunt Vi's eye, and we exchanged small, satisfied smiles. After the ordeal Andrea endured last fall, she seemed well on her way to regaining her former mettle.
With the shopping completed, we returned to the farm and the issues of my world. Andrea invited us all to dinner and I kicked myself for not mentioning our stakeout when she first arrived. Fortunately, Mother and Dad had other plans, and Aunt Vi begged off as well. Andrea followed me into the apartment still happily hell-bent on orchestrating an evening of fun and food.
She took off her jacket and dropped into the overstuffed chair, chattering away about all the fun things we could do in Snohomish and who we could do them with. I had no idea I'd been missing out on so much local entertainment. I collapsed onto the sofa. Her enthusiasm needed to be channeled toward our investigation, but she was darned hard to interrupt.
"… and then I'll take you guys out to dinner, so you won't have to cook. Afterwards we can go see that jazz band I saw the flyer for, unless you'd rather go to the play at the high school."
At her first intake of breath, I charged forward. "Of course you could take us out to dinner, but you're not going to. I already told Paul you were coming. Eat with us. I already have something planned. Did you pack any warm clothes?" I waited for her reply. And waited.
Her eyebrows pulled together enough to cut a vertical crease above her nose. "Uh, kind of … how warm are we talking?"
"Warm enough to keep you comfortable outside for a couple of hours."
She turned her head a bit, so she was looking at me sideways. "We're eating outside? In January? I don't think I've got anything with me that will keep me that warm." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you feeling all right?"
I flapped a hand. "Of course. We're eating inside, then you and I are going to be outside for a while. Don't worry. I'll get you something to keep you from getting cold."
She still looked uncertain, but she wasn't running out the door. "Is this a surprise, or are you going to fill me in at some point?"
"Sorry, I guess I wasn't very clear." And she hadn't given me more than a rushed opportunity to redirect her. "It's not a surprise, but I haven't told Paul yet. And I'm not entirely sure I'm going to."
"Thea …" She folded her hands in her lap. "What are we going to do? And why aren't we telling Paul?"
I laughed. "Don't look so worried. We're just going to go stake out my house. Paul wasn't particularly happy about me doing it last night, but I think it was just because of the snow."
She nodded like she understood my statement on a level that had more to do with my sanity than the weather. "Okay, I can see the need to dress warmly. Want to tell me why we need to hide and watch your house?"
I explained the entire hole situation to her.
"Your life has taken a quantum turn toward the bizarre lately -- even for you: a skeleton under the shrubbery, ghosts, séances, and now mysterious holes appearing in your backyard that are rumored to be linked to the 'Lost Treasure of Snohomish.' And to be perfectly frank, the hostility running loose in your family has reached an all-time high."
"You noticed that, did you?"
"Who could miss it?" she said dryly. "I've been trying to help."
Now I understood the earlier, excessively chipper attitude. "Thanks for your concern, but nothing's going to improve until Mother leaves. She's dedicated to replacing Paul with Jim."
"I noticed a bit of a theme in her comments. What's going on? I thought she liked Paul. Is she causing problems between you two? "
"Oh, no. There's no problems between us. Mother thinks Paul is cheating on me."
"That's ridiculous. It is ridiculous, isn't it?" That worry crease between her eyebrows was back.
"Of course it is. She can't bait me the way she can Juliet. I suspect she's the reason Juliet's been so hard on Eric, lately. She's not dealing well with all these wedding plans Mother is shoving down her throat so she's taking it out on Eric."
"Um … I don't think your mother's causing the problems between Juliet and Eric."
"Sure she is."
Andrea looked pained. "Um, no. I'm pretty sure it's Eric."
"No, that can't be right. Mother's got her fingers in all kinds of things that are none of her business lately." Although the breaking and entering plus the diary theft were foremost on my mind, I couldn't bring myself to voice the accusations to my friend.
"You're accusing your mother of digging up your yard?"
"I'm accusing her of a lot of things these days, and I wouldn't be surprised if all of them were true."
"Thea, that's pretty low -- accusing your own mother of vandalizing your property. Do you have any proof?"
Okay, making me look bad was not what I had in mind. "No. But what bothers me the most is how horrible she's been to Paul."
"I hate to point this out, but for decades television sit-coms have been based on husband/mother-in-law conflict."
"It's not very funny when you're in the middle of it."
"Yes, well, that's what makes it so funny to everyone else. Look, I'm sorry, I know it's stressful. We'll stake out your house tonight and find out for sure who's digging holes."
This was a pity-date concession if I'd ever heard one. I waved away my suggestion. "No, let's do something else. The diggers probably won't show tonight, anyway."
"Come on. It'll be fun even if no one shows up. We can buy some bags of chips and chocolate and sit in my car and talk while we wait for the bad guys. If anyone shows we can take their pictures and call the police."
My interest perked up right along with my attitude. "You have a night-vision camera?"
"Well, no, and it's probably too last minute to buy one, but I'm pretty sure my cell phone camera will work. When will Paul be home?"
"In about an hour."
She jumped up and grabbed her jacket. "Plenty of time to go shopping and stock up."
We headed to the local Fred Meyer for groceries and some other odds and ends Andrea would need. While she was trying on parkas -- her idea of a miscellaneous purchase -- my cell phone rang. Thinking it was Paul, since it was after five-thirty, I answered without checking the caller ID.
"Thea Campbell," the familiar, flat, male voice said. "You have disregarded the instructions again. This is your last warn --"
Shock rock 'n rolled up one side of my spine and down the other, nearly causing me to drop my phone before I could disconnect the call and shove the phone back into my pocket.
"Are you okay?" Andrea asked.
"Yeah, fine." I forced a laugh. "Those spam phone calls are so annoying. Wish I could figure out how to get on the 'do not call’ list."