Bernie raced up the stairs to the flat. Brandon was right behind her. She went straight into her bedroom and started looking through her jeans. God, she hoped she hadn’t washed the ones she needed. That would be terrible. What pair had she been wearing that night?
Her Lucky jeans? The ones from Seven or the ones from Paper or Diesel? Arrgh. She couldn’t remember. Why was she so disorganized? Why didn’t she have a folder or a notebook or something? Why was she always doing this? It was crazy making. How many pairs of jeans did she have anyway? Nine? Or was it ten? She went to her closet to check. Her Union Pacific jeans were on the floor.
She was picking them up when she heard, “I thought that was you I saw through the window.”
Bernie spun around. Libby was standing inside her bedroom. Bernie had been so engrossed in her search she hadn’t even heard her coming up the stairs.
“You didn’t wash any of my jeans, did you?” she demanded of her sister.
Libby gave her an incredulous look. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. They could have gotten into your laundry bag by accident.”
Libby snorted. “You’re a size six, I’m a size twelve. I think when I put them in the wash I’d know they weren’t mine.”
“Maybe you decided to do me a favor and do them anyway.”
“You don’t look like a size twelve,” Brandon interjected.
“That’s sweet,” Libby told him.
“I’m a sweet guy,” Brandon responded.
“No, you’re not,” Bernie replied.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Libby asked him. “We’re featuring Sumatra and I’ve got some lemon squares and pumpkin bread from yesterday that’s still good.”
Heaven spare me, Bernie thought as she tapped Libby on the shoulder. Libby turned around.
“We’re not playing Martha now.”
Libby’s face puckered. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I mean we have to stay on task.”
“What task? I keep asking, but you’re not telling me.”
“I’m looking for the piece of paper I took from Ms. McDougal’s cabin. I’m positive I stuffed it in one of my jeans’ pocket, but I can’t remember which pair, not that it matters because it doesn’t seem to be there.” And to prove her point Bernie gestured to the pile of jeans lying on the floor with their pockets turned inside out.
“Maybe you only thought you put it in your pocket,” Brandon suggested. “Maybe you put it in your jacket pocket or maybe it dropped on the floor. That’s happened to me a couple of times.”
“I was so sure.”
“So was I.”
Bernie bit her lip, went over to her bed, got down on her hands and knees, and looked under it. Nothing. She got up and dusted off her hands.
“We should go back and look,” she said to Brandon. “Just to make sure.”
“Excuse me,” Libby said. “You still haven’t told me what this is about.”
Bernie reached for the pair of gloves lying on the bed. It was going to be cold up on the hill. “It’s about a SKU number.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll tell you when we get back.”
Libby put her hands on her hips. Bernie noticed her sister was tapping her foot.
“Tell me you’re not going up to Ms. McDougal’s cabin now?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Seriously.”
“I am serious. I’ll be right back.”
“Bernie, I still have Tim here.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“That’s not the point. The point is that I can’t leave if I need something.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No. But…”
“Well, then there you go.”
“Bernie—”
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Bernie promised as she headed out the door.
“You’d better be,” Libby called after her. “And get some butter. We’re going to be all out soon. And some parsley flakes.”
There might have been more, but Bernie didn’t hear it because by that time she was out the downstairs door.
“Are you sure you want to go?” Brandon asked her when they were in the car.
“I’m positive,” she answered.
She was thinking about what she’d seen when her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was her dad.
“What’s up, Buttercup?” she asked him.
“Whatever’s not down, Crocodile.”
Bernie listened as he described his meeting with Ted’s mom. “She sounds like a nutcase,” she said when he was through. There was a word for people who collected animals. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of what it was. She was about to ask her dad when her cell phone started beeping. It was going to die. And then it did.
Brandon turned toward her. “What’s up?” he asked.
Bernie explained. Then she fell silent. Things were beginning to fall into place and she wanted a chance to think them through.
They arrived at Ms. McDougal’s cabin twenty-five minutes later. Brandon did the same thing he had the first time they arrived and parked the Nissan behind the cords of wood stacked below the house.
“Do you think this is necessary?” Bernie asked.
“You can never be too careful,” Brandon told her.
“Of course you can be.”
Brandon just shook his head. “I’m not getting into this discussion with you.”
Brandon got out of the car and Bernie followed. The wind whipped around her like it had the last time they were up here. She was glad she’d brought her gloves. As approached the house she wondered if she’d find the paper on the floor. Then she wondered if maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was making things up.
“I wonder if the guy who was living here is still around,” Brandon mused.
“How do you know it’s a guy?”
“I don’t. I’m just making an assumption. Most women wouldn’t be living like that.”
“This is true. They have more sense.”
Bernie looked at the McDougal place. By now they were halfway up the path. At least the climb was easier in the daylight when she could see where she was going.
Brandon turned and looked at her. “You doing okay?”
“Last time I did this you told me I always did okay.”
“Last time you did this your heels were lower.”
Bernie started to cough and stifled it. “So do you think whoever was here before is still here?”
“I’m thinking that he probably moved on.”
Bernie pulled her jacket collar up as far as it would go and snuggled into it.
“He probably swept up the place,” she groused.
“Probably,” Brandon agreed. “I always clean up after myself when I squat.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because you wanted to come.”
“You were the one that suggested it.”
“But you didn’t have to listen.”
“God, you’re impossible.”
“Always have been, always will be.”
“You sound proud of it.”
“I am,” Brandon replied as he reached in his pocket for his credit card. “I wonder if it makes a difference if I use Mastercard, American Express, or Discover.”
“Don’t use Discover. No one takes Discover.”
By now Brandon and Bernie were at the front door.
Brandon’s wallet was out. He paused for a moment to consider the cards in it. “Let’s see. I don’t want to put any more on my Mastercard. I guess I’ll have to use AmEx.”
Bernie laughed.
“See what I do for you?” Brandon said as he removed his American Express card from his wallet. He went over to the door, inserted it in the space between the lock and frame, and popped the lock.
Bernie clapped.
Brandon bowed and stepped inside. Bernie followed. She reflected that the place looked the same as it had when they were there before. She pointed at the empty can of tuna sitting on the coffee table.
“I guess that guy is still around,” she said.
“Maybe he’s planning on wintering over up here.”
“Maybe,” Bernie said absentmindedly. She was more interested in her immediate problem. “I was standing in the bedroom when I found the paper, wasn’t I?” she asked.
“To the best of my recollection you were. You go in and I’ll watch.”
Bernie nodded and headed toward the bedroom. She didn’t know what Brandon had to watch for and she wasn’t in the mood to ask. That dratted paper had to be somewhere. She’d been standing, where? By the foot of the bed? She’d read recently that stress affected a person’s memory. Rob must have affected her more than she thought, Bernie decided, because she always remembered everything and now she couldn’t seem to recall even the simplest thing.
She twisted her onyx and silver ring around her finger while she did what she always did in this kind of situation: She pictured what her father would do. He’d divide the room into a grid pattern, start from one end, and methodically work his way up and down the area until he had covered everything.
“Do it right the first time, then recheck it. That way you don’t make any mistakes,” he always said.
Bernie had just decided to start at the far left corner when she heard the door slam and Brandon yell, “Wait.”
Wait? Wait for what? Bernie dashed out of the bedroom. Through the living room window she could see Brandon tackling someone, and then they were both thrashing around on the ground. By the time Bernie got outside, Brandon had whoever it was pinned to the ground.
“Let me go,” the man yelled.
“How can I let you go when you don’t exist?” Brandon asked him.
“Jeez,” Bernie said when she got close enough to see who Brandon was holding down. “I don’t believe this.”
“Neither did I,” Brandon said. “But here he is…”
Bernie finished the sentence for him. “…Alive and well.”
She squatted down beside him. “So, Ted,” she asked, “how’s life treating you?”