My parents still had to make a decision about Shawn Weller’s buyers, quickly.
For a few hours, it seemed like Dad had won. He said if money had been buried in a 1930s suitcase, or even a solid wood box, it would have rotted. That money would’ve been worm food shortly after it was buried. Mom seemed to agree, but then she’d start the whole debate again.
Amelia and I watched a movie while my parents cooked dinner and talked about Shawn Weller. Every few seconds Amelia turned down the volume—not so much that they’d notice but enough so we could hear their conversation.
Mom said, “I’ve been coming to northern Wisconsin since I was a little girl. I wanted to sell the cabin because we had to. It was the responsible choice. Now that I know there could be another way, I’m just not sure.”
Part of me wanted her to win this argument. Shawn Weller wasn’t just selling the cabin. My best friend was part of the deal. Alex would no longer be my friend. But when I thought of digging up the money my ribs started squeezing the air right out of me. I heard Grumpa telling me to let it rest and it was like I was in the tunnel all over again.
“I have messages from Neil Clark to call him, and I can’t.” Dad slammed the cupboard. “You know why? Because I’d be embarrassed for him to know we’re talking about Capone and the money right after the funeral.”
“Todd, I have an idea. Just hear me out. We could hire a company to move the cabin. Then they could tear up the slab foundation and dig for the money. Then we rebuild the foundation and put the cabin back.” Mom sounded so proud.
“That’s a dangerous gamble. Basically we’d spend thousands and thousands of dollars for this long shot. What happens if we don’t find a dime? Or say we do find money, but it’s only a couple thousand dollars. We’d be in worse shape than we are now.”
“I’m trying to think outside the box, Todd!”
“Here’s another problem—the government! Capone went to jail for tax evasion. The government would probably confiscate the money for back taxes.”
There was silence, and maybe tears, but mostly silence. Good. My ribs eased their grip on my chest a little. Amelia had just picked up the remote when Dad started talking again, softly this time.
“Honey? Do you really want to look for this money? I don’t want you spending the rest of our lives wondering what might have happened. If it means that much to you, then let’s just do it.”
I bounced off the couch and shouted, “Why can’t you let it rest?” I went outside and slammed the door.
Alex was pretending to drive the ATV, which was perched on the driveway near the shed. Instead of a helmet, he had on Grumpa’s fishing hat. He smiled and waved. I half-waved back and plopped down at our picnic table. Alex swung his leg off the ATV and walked slowly toward me.
“Christa, when do you think it’ll be okay to play again?”
“You should ask that pastor. He seemed to know everything about dying.”
“I didn’t like him. I hated the whole thing. They put Grandpa in an ugly suit. How dumb was that?”
“I know!”
Alex flicked an ant off the bench and sat down. “Dad said my grandpa’s heart was bad.”
“It was not! He had a good heart.”
“He didn’t mean a bad heart like a bad person. He meant it wasn’t working right.”
“Oh.” I was glad to know Neil didn’t think Grumpa’s heart was bad.
“Anyway, my dad is coming over to talk to your parents. He’s been calling them since yesterday. Maybe they’ll say it’s okay for us to do something.”
I sighed. “Maybe.”
“Your legs look worse than mine.” Alex stuck out his leg and we compared scratches.
“We look like road maps,” I said.
“No. Road maps are orderly. This looks like someone tried to glue a cat to our legs.”
The cabin door opened and Mom, Dad, and Amelia came outside. They said hello to Alex and asked him about his parents and talked about the weather. I figured they wanted to talk to me about the loot, but they didn’t want to do it in front of Alex. An awkward moment, probably. But I didn’t care. My chest was feeling tight, and I wanted to end it fast.
I interrupted all the weather talk. “Grumpa said the loot was cursed.”
Dad looked surprised. He wiped his glasses on the bottom of his t-shirt. “Well, honey, a curse is an entertaining idea, but it’s not real. Curses aren’t real.”
My head throbbed. Even though we were outside, there was not enough air to fill my lungs. I whispered, “Grumpa said we should let it rest! That’s what he wanted.” I blinked away tears—real tears. Eye sweats were for babies.
“I don’t remember that,” Alex said.
“It was in the library after you went upstairs. I don’t want to talk about it again. Ever.”
Mom covered her mouth with her hand. She blinked away tears, too, and pulled me into a hug. “We don’t believe in curses, but we do believe in letting it rest. It’s time to move on.”
Neil spotted us from the Clarks’ porch. He made his way over while Mom squeezed me. He said, “I’m sorry to just pop over like this, but it’s important.”
“Sorry I haven’t returned your calls.” Dad’s face turned red. “It’s been pretty crazy.”
“I need to know if you signed the sale papers yet.”
“The realtor is bringing them over,” Dad said. “Why?”
“I talked to the investigators. Duncan’s going to jail for a long time. Turns out he’s been breaking into Capone’s for years and stealing antiques. That’s why the security systems never seemed to work. A cop knows how to get around them. Duncan even got Capone’s personal handgun, which he sold to an unsuspecting collector for a fortune.”
Dad shook his head. “That’s terrible.”
“A while ago, the insurance company for the property put up a reward leading to the arrest of the thief. The reward is twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Well, I’m glad they finally caught him. It’s a shame it went on so long.”
Neil leaned forward. “I don’t think you heard me. There’s a twenty-five thousand dollar reward.”
Dad blinked a couple of times. “I don’t get your point.”
“The investigators say the reward money belongs to Amelia.”
“Me?” Amelia’s voice cracked.
Neil squeezed Alex’s shoulders while he spoke. “You took Duncan down. You saved my son’s life. I can’t ever thank you enough, Amelia.”
Dad’s face went white. “Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. I think my head might explode.”
“I know,” Neil said. “It’s a lot to think about. This week has been … well, it’s been a week, hasn’t it?”
“Can you excuse us for a moment?” Dad and Mom huddled by the cabin door and whispered. I’d never been both happy and sad at the same time, and those feelings did not get along. Those feelings made me tired.
Even if we kept our cabin, I’d never see Grumpa grumping on his front porch or fishing on the dock or napping in his recliner. No, it wouldn’t be the same.
I watched Amelia as she straightened her Eatsa Some Pizza t-shirt and pulled her hair into a rubber band. She wasn’t the same sister as two years ago, but she could still wrangle snakes. And now she could drive and stay up late and work at the best restaurant in the world.
I looked at Alex, who was picking at the scab on his knee. Next summer Alex My Friend might be Alex The Videogame Player or Alex The Best Friend Of Quincy. Or maybe he’d still be Buck Punch. But what if I wasn’t Chase Truegood? I wasn’t scared of anything except sharks and snakes, but I was afraid of everything being different. Everything was already different.
Finally, Mom and Dad came back to the picnic table. Mom said, “The reward money doesn’t solve all our problems, but it goes a long way. We need to hear from Amelia. This involves her.”
Amelia rumpled my hair. “Twenty-five thousand dollars would buy a lifetime supply of lip gloss.”
I laughed and it felt good. Amelia’s sense of humor was only ninety-nine percent gone. She could still be funny.
“We should use it for our family,” Amelia said. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“You saved my life!” I punched her arm.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“It’s settled then,” Mom said. “We’re taking down the for-sale sign. We’re staying.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Neil said.
I hugged her hard. In my mind I hugged Grumpa next. Then I hugged Dad and Amelia and even Neil. I gave Alex a little punch in the arm.
Alex looked at his dad. “Is it okay if we go do something?”
“Sure. Go do something.”
As Alex and I walked toward the shed, Mom called out, “Do not throw mud at Shawn Weller’s sign!”
I put my hands on my hips and yelled back. “Jeez, Mom! We know! Of course we’re not going to throw mud at the sign.”
Alex adjusted Grumpa’s fishing hat. “So what do you want to do?”
“Bummer,” I said. “I really wanted to throw mud balls at that sign.”
He sighed. “Me, too.”