Sunday was Garnet’s favourite day of the week. It was better than Saturday because she didn’t have to dust or vacuum, and she could laze about and stay in her pyjamas until noon if she felt like it. Garnet and her mother sometimes used to work on a piece of furniture on Sundays, but that hadn’t happened for a while now, at least not since they had moved to Kitchener. The antique oak dining table they had brought along from Owen Sound, and were going to refinish next, remained untouched in the basement. And to think of all the trouble it had been to move it.
They had found the table at a yard sale last fall, out in the country. It needed a lot of work and was heavy. No doubt that was the reason it had been one of the last unsold items, even though the owner had already marked the price down considerably. But her mother’s discerning eye had caught the unique carving just visible under all the layers of peeling paint, and she had said that if they stripped it all off, then lightly sanded the wood and stained it, it would be a fine piece of furniture.
That was months before they knew they were moving. And long before the discovery inside the lady’s writing table. The writing table was proving to be the biggest project of all.
The desk had belonged to Garnet’s grandmother, Nana. She had brought it over from England after the Second World War. When Nana went into the nursing home, Garnet’s mother hadn’t sold the writing table like the rest of her furniture. Nana had kept it in her room at the nursing home. After Nana died, Garnet’s mother had brought it home and put it into her bedroom.
But it wasn’t until after they had moved to Kitchener that Garnet’s mother inspected the desk more carefully. It was at least a hundred years old, and had acquired plenty of scratches and dents over the years. But now there was a new gash on the side of it — a souvenir from their move. Garnet’s mother was running her fingers over the woodwork, opening all the drawers, trying to decide what might be the best way to refinish it, when she discovered a tiny bump in the back of one of the compartments. When she pressed it, to her surprise, a spring popped the back panel open, revealing a small hiding space. Inside, she found an old legal document — divorce papers between her mother, Joan Wood, and her father, Serge St. Jean.
The discovery was a shock to Garnet’s mother. She had known that her mother, a British nurse, and her father, a French-Canadian soldier, had met in 1944 while serving in France, that after the war they had married in England, and her mother had come to live in Canada with her new husband. But Garnet’s mother had been told that her father had died after a brief illness in 1952, when she was two years old. Her mother had remarried a short time later, and her stepfather, Henry Smith, had adopted Garnet’s mother as his own daughter and she had taken his last name. She had never known about the divorce.
The subject of her real father had rarely been brought up over the years, as Nana never wanted to talk about him. And now it appeared that 1952 was the year the divorce papers were signed.
Ever since Garnet’s mother discovered the papers, she had become almost obsessed with a search to find any information she could about her father and learning whether he was dead or perhaps alive, but so far her efforts had been fruitless.
Garnet pushed back the covers of her bed and went downstairs. As she expected, her mother was sitting in front of the computer, her fingers punching more inquiries onto the keyboard, with a half cup of coffee gone cold next to her.
“Any luck today?” Garnet asked.
“Mm. Not really,” her mother replied.
“You can’t find the name?”
Garnet’s mother looked over the top of her glasses. “No, that’s not the problem. I found the name on this website with telephone listings. But there are hundreds of St. Jean’s all over Canada, most of them in Quebec.”
“Have you tried the Kingston Penitentiary?” Garnet said, hiding a grin.
Her mother frowned. “The Kingston Penitentiary? What are you talking about?”
Garnet shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. “Well, you know how Nana never wanted to talk about him. If he isn’t dead, maybe he’s been in jail. Maybe that’s why he’s never called you.”
Her mother glared at her and Garnet couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“You’re not being helpful, Garnet,” her mother said, turning her eyes back to the computer screen.
“Oh, come on. I’m only kidding.” Garnet turned to go the kitchen for some breakfast, then stopped and swung back around. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you try sending out a mass mailing? You could use the telephone listings and send a letter to everyone with the last name and ask if they know or knew your father, or ask if they know where he might be. Or why don’t you just hire a private detective?”
“Hire a private detective. Now that’s a good idea. I guess I was just hoping there’d be a way to do it myself.” Garnet’s mother bit her lower lip. “I’d still like to know why Mum didn’t tell me.”
“Maybe she was too embarrassed.”
Her mother nodded. “You’re probably right. I know how it was when your father and I divorced. I felt like such a loser. Sometimes I wished I could have just crawled into a hole. And back in your Nana’s day, well, getting a divorce was nearly unheard of. She would have been too proud to go back to England where she would have had to admit failure to her family and friends. Auntie Janet told me years ago, when I was in England, that my grandparents had never approved of Mum’s first marriage. Grandfather called my father a fortune hunter from the start and his point was only proven when Grandfather’s business dealings failed and he was forced to sell the manor. When my father realized Mum’s family had no money, Auntie Janet said he decided to go back to Canada and took Mum with him. She was already expecting me. So maybe by saying he’d died, Mum thought she wouldn’t have to explain anything to me or anyone else.”
Garnet’s mother shrugged. “Still, you’d think she could have told me, her own daughter, especially once I was old enough to understand. Of course, with her illness, she probably waited too long and couldn’t tell me later. I suppose I’ll never really know what she was thinking. Your suggestion of hiring a private detective is a good one, though. I might look into it.”
Garnet walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice. As she waited for her toast, she thought of her grandmother and how things had been before she became ill. When they all lived in Toronto, and Grandpa, or at least the man Garnet had always known as her grandfather, was still alive. And before Garnet’s dad left.
When Nana used to say her name, it sounded like Gah-net, her English accent making it sound more sophisticated somehow. Garnet remembered the gingersnaps and their spicy aroma as Nana pulled them from the oven and placed them on a Wedgwood china plate. Nana always liked to use her good china when company came. “Otherwise,” she remarked, “when will it be used?”
And Nana loved Christmas. She made it a fun and elaborate affair in the proper English tradition, with crackers, silly paper hats, and the flaming Christmas pudding. “That was the best one ever,” she would declare every year when the last of the blue flame on the pudding had burnt itself out. Garnet often slept over at Nana and Grandpa’s. They would take her to the park, or shopping, or they would do simple things like read books and play games or watch movies together.
But the year Garnet turned seven, everything changed. It started with her father’s decision to leave and her parents’ divorce. Though her father, Neil, had always been away for long periods on business, it had still seemed strange at home when he packed up all of his things and moved to Hong Kong to take the job at the new head office. At first, he had called twice a week as he always had when he was away, but over the years, the calls had dwindled, especially since he had remarried.
Then one day, Nana stopped talking. She stopped eating and became weak. As Nana lay back against the pillow, with her once carefully groomed hair matted to her head, Garnet finally began to understand. The person before her was only the shell of the woman she had once known and loved. Her pale blue eyes could not see the reality before her, her spirit was hiding somewhere in that tiny, frail body, and her mind was trapped in another place and time, in a world of its own, a place she had not chosen and from which she could not escape. She died soon after.
Garnet took the last bite of her toast and decided to visit Elizabeth.
As Garnet neared Elizabeth’s house, she noticed a black Grand Am pull into the driveway. The motor was turned off and the door on the driver’s side swung open. She was surprised to see Dan jump out, wearing khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt. He ran around to the passenger’s side to open the door, then took Elizabeth’s arm to help her as she steadied herself with her cane. Elizabeth appeared elegant in a navy suit accented with white trim.
Garnet turned her bike into the driveway and pulled off her headset. “Hello, Elizabeth,” she said.
Elizabeth’s face lit up. “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise? Hello, Garnet, dear.”
“Hey, Garnet,” Dan said, smiling. Then his eyes dropped down to Garnet’s bare legs below her denim shorts, before darting back up again, and Garnet felt an unexpected flutter dance through her.
Did he just check out my legs? She dismissed the thought immediately. Of course not, stupid, she told herself. Why would he check out her legs? “Hi,” Garnet said quickly, feeling her face grow hot as she turned her attention back to Elizabeth. “I was just riding through the neighbourhood.”
“Well, that’s good timing. We’re just returning from church. Danny’s such a good boy and gave me a ride home. Would you like to come in? If fact, would you both like to come in? You could stay for lunch!”
Dan glanced at his watch. “I might just have enough time to do that, Mrs. Tate. I’m going to a ball game later with my dad and a friend.”
Garnet, who had eaten her breakfast barely an hour ago, heard herself say, “Okay.” Elizabeth beamed. “Wonderful!”
While Elizabeth made some sandwiches, Garnet and Dan helped set the table, putting out the dishes, some pickles, grapes, milk, and two-bite chocolate brownies. When they sat down, Elizabeth appeared pleased with herself as she looked over at Dan and then Garnet, who sat across from him. She passed the plate of sandwiches to Garnet, who took one before passing it to Dan, then remarked, “My, seeing you two young people here reminds me of when I met Albert.”
Garnet nearly choked on the first bite of her sandwich and reached for the glass of milk to wash it down. What did Elizabeth mean? How could she compare them to herself and Albert? Had Garnet somehow given an indication that she was attracted to Dan? There was no denying he was attractive, but that’s as far as it went. Someone like Dan would never seriously even consider her. He had too many other options that were far more interesting than her. Like that blond girl Garnet had seen him with. Laura. She was everything Garnet wasn’t: athletic, popular, and gorgeous. Not that it really mattered.
“How did you and Albert meet?” Garnet asked, recovering herself.
“It was at a concert at Victoria Park,” Elizabeth replied. She touched her locket, and her pale blue eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses gazed out the kitchen window. “It was 1939. Both of my parents had passed away by then and I was living with my aunt and uncle. I played the flute in the ladies’ music group, and one beautiful Sunday evening in early June we were performing at an outdoor concert in the bandstand at the park. Just before the concert began, as I was arranging my music for our first piece, called ’Summer Serenade,’ I looked up and spotted Albert in the audience. I couldn’t miss him with his flaming red hair. Our eyes met for a moment and then it was time to play. I felt him watching me the entire concert. When it was over, as I was packing my music away, he came up to me and said, ’Is your flute magical?’ I looked at him, a little puzzled, and said, ’No. Why do you ask?’ And he said, ’Because I was sure it was calling me like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.’” Elizabeth slapped her thigh and chuckled. “Imagine, a line like that!”
Her laughter was contagious and Garnet and Dan joined in. “So what happened? Did he ask you out?” Garnet asked.
“He asked my name and if he could call me. He phoned the next day to invite me to a dance, which was to be held in the pavilion in the park the following Saturday. Of course, I accepted. He came to pick me up in his car, and I introduced him to Aunt Ellie and Uncle Bill. Strangely though, I didn’t meet Albert’s father until months later, shortly before we were engaged.
Dan gave a low whistle. “Wow, that’s a long time to keep a girlfriend under wraps!”
“I’ll say,” Elizabeth agreed. “Especially in those days. I thought it odd as well. That is, until I actually met his father. Then I realized that Albert might have been afraid he might scare me away.”
Garnet laughed. “Do you think he would have?”
“There was a good chance of it. When we became engaged, my aunt and uncle were thrilled. Reginald only mumbled a brief congratulation and eyed me a little more closely, but that was all. He always seemed distracted somehow. It could have been partially due to his hearing loss, but all the same, I did take it personally at first. I thought that maybe he didn’t like me. Anyway, when Albert and I married, I came to live at this house. But it was only after Albert left for the war that Reginald seemed to become even more strange and I first noticed his ramblings.”
“So, what did you do?” Dan asked, reaching for a brownie and shoving the entire piece into his mouth.
“What could I do? I kept busy and stayed out of the house as much as possible. I taught school through the week and offered music lessons in private homes on Saturdays. I volunteered with the Red Cross. On Sundays, I went to church and visited Aunt Ellie and Uncle Bill. When I was home, Reginald and I rarely spoke except to acknowledge one another if we did happen to meet, which wasn’t often. We ate our meals separately and he usually just sat alone in the library with the door closed. From time to time in the first year, he met with businessmen, but those visits eventually stopped.”
Garnet tugged at a grape from the stem. “Why didn’t you go back to live with your aunt and uncle?”
“I thought about it, especially when I visited with them, but I worried what Albert might think. After all, we didn’t think the war would last as long as it did, and, of course, I wanted to believe that Albert would come back. As it turned out, Reginald died in the spring of 1942. Then later that year, in August, I received the telegram that Albert was missing in action after air operations in Dieppe. He was an RCAF sergeant and bomber navigator.” Elizabeth sighed. “When I first received the telegram, I refused to believe he was dead. I kept hoping he’d be found, that he’d only been hiding from the enemy, or was injured, perhaps suffering from temporary amnesia, or maybe was even a prisoner of war — anything but dead. I waited here for years, hoping against hope that someday he would walk in through that front door. But my Albert never did come home.”
They ate in silence for a few moments, then Dan asked, “Did you ever think of marrying again, Mrs. Tate?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No one else was ever quite like Albert. There was something about him — that sparkle in his eyes, his sense of humour, that certain energy. He took life by the horns, living for the moment, wanting to help the cause and not worrying about the consequences. Whatever did he see in a schoolteacher like me? We were so different.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “I went out with a few men from time to time over the years but I never met anyone again whom I wished to marry. And I certainly didn’t need to marry anyone to keep me. Money was no worry. What was to become Albert’s inheritance became mine, and that, along with the widow’s pension and my salary, was more than enough. And as for children, every one of my students became a son or daughter to me. My only regret in all these years is that I’ve never been able to find the missing jewels. It would be a shame for them to be lost forever.”
As if on cue, the sapphire in Elizabeth’s ring caught the light and Garnet was reminded of what Elizabeth had told her the day before. But until Elizabeth mentioned the jewels in front of Dan, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might also know about them. Garnet glanced over at him now and noticed his eyebrows were knitted together. She gave a slight shrug, then asked, “Elizabeth, did Reginald have a safe or anything where he might have kept them?”
Elizabeth cocked her head to one side. “He did. Behind some books in the library. Reginald’s housekeeper, Ethel, told me about it. Poor Ethel. She had been like a mother to Albert and became a dear friend of mine as we waited for him to return. Anyway, I had a locksmith come to crack the lock for me. The safe contained information on stocks and private documents about some of the businesses Reginald was involved with. There was also a copy of the will, but not the jewels. In fact, the will didn’t even mention any jewels.”
Dan cleared his throat and his eyes narrowed. “What jewels are you talking about, Mrs. Tate?”
“I’m sorry, Danny. Of course, you don’t know. I’ve carried this secret with me for so many years and didn’t tell a soul. Until I saw Garnet.” Elizabeth’s eyes rested on her before she continued. “She reminded me so much of the portrait of Albert’s mother, I ... well, I just couldn’t help myself. The story just started to spill out. Albert’s family had some valuable jewels. I don’t know where they are or whatever happened to them, but I’ve been searching for them for years. Now after all this time, I’m finally going to admit that I’m going to need some help to find them if I am ever to have a hope of seeing them.”
“Oh, and I will try to help you, Elizabeth,” Garnet reassured her.
“I would be so pleased if you did,” Elizabeth replied.
Dan said nothing and drank the rest of his milk.
After lunch, Dan and Garnet insisted that Elizabeth sit down while they cleaned up. She looked a little tired and didn’t protest. She sat in the chair and watched them, until her eyelids became heavy and she dozed off. As Garnet dried the dishes, she noticed the many medicine bottles on the countertop and a tray that was set up for pills, labelled for each day of the week and for various times of the day. And next to the phone, Garnet saw a small basket tray where Elizabeth kept an address book and phone numbers. Some were on business cards while others were on pieces of paper, including the receipt on which she had written her own name and phone number for Elizabeth. On top of the pile lay a business card that read, “Stanley Hunt. Broker. Rainbow Realty.” It had a picture of a man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties on it. That must be Gerdie’s fiancé, Garnet thought.
When the dishes were done, Dan left for the game and Elizabeth offered to show Garnet the upper levels of the home. She led Garnet up the stairs, her progress slow as she clutched the railing with one hand and used her cane to steady herself with the other.
“The house was modern when it was built, but over the years there have been a few updates,” Elizabeth panted, trying to catch her breath on the landing. “You may have noticed the kitchen was remodelled some time ago. I had the electric wiring and the plumbing upgraded at the same time.”
“Cool tub,” Garnet remarked when Elizabeth pushed open the bathroom door. A white claw-foot bathtub stood against the far wall.
“Yes, I was always fond of that myself. I had it refinished a few years ago when I replaced the toilet and sink.”
The house had five fully furnished bedrooms, two of them at the back of the house. The master suite, which had been Reginald’s, was painted blue and had its own bathroom. The green room had been the nursery and had a connecting door that led to a self-contained suite, once the nanny’s quarters. These quarters could also be accessed by another door further down the hall.
“All the bedrooms have remained the same all these years, except for mine,” Elizabeth said, as they passed by the door to her room at the front of the house. “I’ve had it redecorated several times.” Garnet peeked in and saw that it was wallpapered in a pink and green floral pattern.
As they crossed the hall to the last room, Garnet became acutely aware of a persistent mewing sound coming from behind the closed door. When Elizabeth turned the knob, Ginger immediately scampered out past them and bounded down the stairs.
“Now, how did she lock herself in there?” Elizabeth asked, shaking her head.
They entered the yellow room, which had two other doors, one of them opening out onto the balcony. Elizabeth pointed to the other door, on the inside wall. “That leads to the attic. Nothing but junk up there. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a packrat. You may find some of it amusing, though, if you care to go through it sometime. I haven’t made the trip up myself in a couple of years. The stairs are much too steep for me now.”
Garnet felt a small flicker of excitement. Her mother said that old people often called their old things junk and sometimes they were, but other times they were treasure troves of antiques. “Oh, I’d love to look through it. Mom and I used to spend lots of Saturday afternoons rummaging through antique shops. Before she got so busy, that is.”
“Tell me, what does your mother do?” Elizabeth asked.
“She’s a manager at Prosperity Trust.”
“She must have a very important job that it keeps her so busy.”
“Well, it’s not just her job. She’s also trying to search for her father.” Garnet went on to explain about the discovery of the divorce papers in her grandmother’s desk, and that her mother was trying to find out if the father she thought was dead all those years might still be alive.
The grandfather clock in the front hall gonged twice, announcing two o’clock.
“Oh, time for my pills,” Elizabeth said.
Garnet followed Elizabeth downstairs, waiting for her in the living room while she took her medication in the kitchen. Ginger had found a cosy spot to nap on the far end of the sofa, the slit of one of her eyes opening, as the hand-painted clock on the mantel chimed two. Garnet looked down at her watch. One fifty-five. It was running at least five minutes behind. She adjusted it, then picked up the silver-framed photograph on the mantel.
They had been an attractive couple, Elizabeth and Albert. Though the picture was black and white, Garnet could see that Elizabeth’s shoulder-length hair had been dark and wavy, and her lips were tinted, so that she reminded Garnet of one of those glamorous movie stars from the 1940s. She wore a simple white hat and gown with her gold locket in front, and Albert, only slightly taller, looked handsome in an air force uniform and cap. Their eyes shone with happiness and anticipation, unaware that a life together would not be theirs.
“Our wedding day,” Elizabeth said from behind her.
Garnet looked up. “You’re wearing the same locket as in this picture.”
“It belonged to Albert’s mother,” Elizabeth said, clutching it. “Reginald gave it to her when Albert was born.”
Garnet set the photograph back down, her eyes travelling to the silver angel on the other side of the mantel. She touched it lightly, admiring its workmanship.
“Albert’s grandfather made that,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat in the armchair. “You may pick it up if you like.”
The angel wore a robe and was blowing a horn and fit easily into Garnet’s hand. Its wings were detailed, in layers, like the feathers on the wings of a bird. On the back of the angel was a tiny knob that appeared to be a button. Garnet pressed it. To her delight, the wings swung upward.
Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, it’s quite something, isn’t it?”
Garnet ran a finger along the opened wings, then squinted. “What are these markings?” She brought the angel over to Elizabeth and pointed at what appeared to be tiny writing.
Elizabeth leaned forward, then waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that. Yes. There’s another on the other wing. I believe they’re Bible verses. I used to think they might be a clue to the jewels because of what Reginald said on the day he died about the angel guiding me. But when I looked the verses up, I couldn’t think what they might have had to do with the jewels.”
“What do the verses say?” Garnet asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t remember, exactly. It’s been so long since I looked.”
Garnet tried to make out what the writing said but it was very small. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll get it for you.” She rose from the armchair and hobbled out of the room, returning a few minutes later.
Garnet took the glass from her and held it over the wings, reading the tiny engraved letters and numbers. “I think the one on the left says something like ’Mat. 28:5.’” Moving the glass over to the other wing, she noticed the script was in a slightly different style. “And the one on the right says ’Ps. 45:13.’” Garnet glanced up at Elizabeth. “What does it mean?”
“They’re abbreviations. ’M-A-T’ would stand for the book of St. Matthew, and ’P-S’ would stand for the book of Psalms. The numbers indicate where in the books the verses would be found.”
“Oh. Can we look them up?”
“Certainly. The Bible is here on the table.” Elizabeth handed Garnet a thick black leather-bound book.
Garnet set down the angel and flipped through the worn pages, looking up after several moments. “I don’t seem to be having any luck. These books aren’t in alphabetical order.”
“No, dear, they’re not. Come, let me show you,” Elizabeth said patiently, taking the book from her, and turning to a page in the front that listed the books in the Bible and their page numbers. Together she and Elizabeth found the page and the verse.
Garnet began to read out loud. “’And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.’” She peered up from the book and frowned. “The language kind of sounds like Shakespeare.”
“That’s because this Bible is an old King James Version. Hundreds of years ago, King James authorized an English version of the Bible, and this is more or less what the scripture was translated to. There are many translations now, though, and in nearly every language of the world. At church, we use a modern one in today’s English.”
“So, what does this verse mean?” Garnet asked, struggling to understand.
“Do you know the Easter story at all, when Jesus arose from the dead, the morning of the third day after he was crucified?”
Garnet nodded. “When I was little, Nana used to sometimes take me to Sunday school.” Beyond that though, apart from her grandmother’s funeral, she had not set foot inside a church in years. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in God. She did pray sometimes, but only if she felt that she really needed some extra help.
“In this chapter there were two women named Mary who went to visit the tomb where Jesus had been buried. The tomb was actually a cave. When they got there, they discovered the stone from the cave had already been rolled away and an angel was waiting for them to give instructions. He told them not to be afraid, that Jesus was raised from the dead and they were to go and tell his disciples this.”
Garnet bit her lower lip. “You were right, Elizabeth. This has nothing to do with any jewels. What does the other verse say?” She placed the magnifying glass over the right wing. “Ps. 45:13.”
“So that verse would be found in the book of Psalms, in the Old Testament, chapter 45, verse 13,” Elizabeth explained.
Garnet found the page and read aloud. “’The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.’” She glanced up. “Well, at least now it might be talking about jewellery.”
Elizabeth gave a little snort. “That it is. But if it’s supposed to be a clue to anything, what does it mean?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Over the years, I’ve searched this house from top to bottom. Any hiding spot I could think of, I’ve looked in. I’ve knocked at walls, checked for loose floorboards, you name it. Since I couldn’t find them in the house, I even went to different banks in the city to see if Reginald had any safe-deposit boxes that I couldn’t find the keys to, but everything has come up empty. I don’t need the jewels for money. I would only like to see them once before I die. And if they are hidden in this house, I don’t want them lost forever!”
The phone gave a shrill ring in the kitchen. “Excuse me,” Elizabeth said. She reached for her cane and left Garnet alone.
Garnet picked up the angel again. She ran her fingers over the delicate silver feathers, searching for any other potential clues she might have missed. Snippets of the telephone conversation drifted to Garnet’s ears as Elizabeth’s voice became louder and slightly unsteady.
“Fifty thousand dollars? I don’t know ...” There was a pause. “Give me a few days. I’ll help your friend, but this is the last time....” Another pause. “Goodbye, then.”
Garnet looked up at Elizabeth as she returned to the living room, leaning heavily on her cane. Her face was flushed and beaded with moisture.
“Are you okay?” Garnet asked.
Elizabeth nodded but Garnet could see that she was not. She set the angel down on the mantel and rushed to Elizabeth’s side, the vision of her collapsing on the grass still fresh in her mind. “Come, sit down,” she said, guiding her to the sofa and easing her down. “Do you want a glass of water or something?”
“I need my pills. My nitroglycerines,” Elizabeth answered weakly. “They’re in the kitchen on the countertop with all the other medicine.”
Garnet bolted out of the room, then returned with the blue bottle and a glass of water, which she set down on the table. Elizabeth’s open palm shook as she held it out for Garnet to give her the pill. She slipped the pill under her tongue and leaned back, closing her eyes. Garnet sat down next to her and watched as Elizabeth’s colour returned to normal.
That telephone call, whatever it had been about, had left her seriously agitated. Who had the caller been and what had been said to upset her so? Fifty thousand dollars? That was a lot of money. Surely nobody was asking Elizabeth to give them that much. Did this have anything to do with the money she had seen in Elizabeth’s purse the other day? She wanted to ask her about it but now wasn’t the time. Anyway, if Elizabeth wanted her to know, maybe she would tell her later.
Garnet looked down at Elizabeth’s sapphire ring next to the gold wedding band and in a calm, soothing voice attempted to distract her. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I’m going to help you find those jewels, I promise. I’ll search the house from top to bottom, whatever it takes. But I’ll probably need your help. You might even have to answer some questions for me. Are you with me on this?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes. Smiling weakly, she nodded, and Garnet could feel her relax as a plump, wrinkled hand, speckled with age spots, stretched out and patted the top of Garnet’s smooth, freckled one.
Garnet only hoped she could live up to her promise.