We bounced out the front door of Petunia’s, pug in tow, laughing and talking all the way to the center of town and the library there. All hail the conquering heroettes and all that. It was the kind of perfect crystal cold day January winters in these parts were famous for, the wind brisk enough I felt it but didn’t care, not while Daisy hurried along beside me, Petunia barking her happiness at being outdoors and our delighted, excited state. I even swung my arms in unbridled joy, embracing the moment of adventure, skipping a few steps to the sound of Daisy’s laughter.
It wasn’t about finding the treasure on that sunny winter afternoon. Sure, finding it would be amazing, over the top awesomesauce with a dose of holy Hannah thrown in for good measure. If I thought Petunia’s was busy now… never mind the fact finding the hoard would mean I’d never have to actually work again if I didn’t want to. I’d never dreamed of being stinking rich, but the idea appealed nonetheless.
No, that half skip, bubbling walk of joy was about being with Daisy, about feeling happier than I had in a long time, having a good laugh when the blues and loneliness tried for so long to win but failed miserably in the face of friendship and the hunt for pirate gold.
It was a beautiful day in Reading, Vermont.
When we reached the statue of our town’s namesake, I stopped, uncontrollable giggling taking me over before I saluted him, Daisy bouncing on her toes as she snorted over my gesture and pointed at the front of his bronze pants glittering with more than frost clinging to the metal. Someone had been regularly defacing the poor guy and today was no different, a terribly graphic phallic symbol spray painted across the front of his breeches. I found the fact oddly hilarious as we continued on, snorting into the cold air long after we passed him, all the way up the steps we ran two at a time to the door to the library.
There was a great deal too much giggling and whispering and carrying on happening between Daisy and me for Mr. Lightmews’s liking, apparently, because we got the librarian death glare the moment we entered. I felt like a bad kid set loose in a candy store with intent to wreak havoc and didn’t care, Daisy hurrying me past the huffing older gentleman, Petunia trotting gamely between us. I was pretty sure dogs weren’t allowed and that we had about a minute of hunting to find the book in question before Mr. Lightmews did his best to kick our overly excited butts out, but it would be enough.
I’d already gotten so much out of the last few minutes to keep me running on happy for a lifetime. Finding the treasure? Icing on this particularly tasty cake.
Heh. You’d think I’d have had enough of baking metaphors by now.
When I steered us toward the file catalog, Daisy grasped my arm firmly and jerked me toward the steps to the second floor.
“I already know where it is,” she whispered so loudly it echoed. Good thing we were alone in here, then, at least from what I could tell. More giggling. Awesome. My cheeks already ached from grinning so hard I was sure my face was frozen that way. I followed her in a rush, scooting down a line of shelves until she stopped abruptly, making me bump into her and snort over the impact. She flapped her hands at me, shushing me loudly enough to be heard in the next town over, pulling me to a halt next to her while I snickered over anticipation of Mr. Lightmews’s imminent command to depart or else. The most fun ever.
Daisy met my eyes before nodding to the shelf and the spine of a book right in front of me. I turned to her then, open mouthed and wanting to smack her as I realized not only did she know where the book was theoretically, she’d scouted its exact location and had the restraint to do nothing about it. I could only wish for that kind of self-control.
“Why didn’t you look?” I reached for the thin spine and pulled it down, plastic covering the paper flaps crinkling in my hands. The image of a huge ship and a treasure chest layered over top framed by the name Alistair Markham and the title, The Reading Hoard: Fact or Fiction.
She was still grinning, but now tears lined her big eyes as she blinked too fast. There was hurt behind her happy. I’d have to do something about that. “I wasn’t sure and I didn’t have the courage to check myself.” She squeezed my arm, grinned then, laughed out the last of her tension. “I’m an idiot. But I wanted you to be here anyway.”
I winked at her, grasped the front cover. “Ready to find the treasure of Captain Reading, matey?” My pirate lingo was passing at best, but Daisy saluted anyway, much as I had the statue whose fortune we pursued.
“When you are, Cap’n,” she said.
Treasure or no treasure, wild goose chase or end of the road, whatever this book and the clues my grandmother left me meant?
I’d take all the fun I could get.
***