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Days later, Cortland was trying to be the helpful girlfriend by making Dawson a bagged lunch. Out of leftovers, she made him lunch with a can of tuna she found in the pantry in the basement. Its use-by date indicated it was getting close to expiration, so she thought she might as well use it up. Half the can went into making Dawson’s tuna fish salad. The remainder she would use to make a small tuna and macaroni salad.
The old, dusty elbow pasta box she had retrieved on the highest shelf in the cabinet waited for the pot of water to boil. Without looking, she ripped the box open and dumped the contents into the roiling water. “Holy Crap!” she exclaimed as dollar bills floated in the water along with a cup or so of pasta. And they were not just one-dollar bills, but one-hundred-dollar bills. Fishing them out with a slotted spoon, she laid them on the countertop and sponged them dry. There were twenty-one hundred-dollar bills. “Holy Crap!” She shut off the gas under the pot before heading downstairs.
Poking through the pantry goods, she noticed several boxes had been taped shut on the bottom. She took those boxes upstairs with her. One by one, she opened them and peered inside. Every box held a wad of bills. Some were hundreds, some fifties, and a lot more were twenties, tens, and fives.
She rushed back down into the pantry. She tore open everything and anything that could have been re-sealed. The oatmeal canisters held bills. The coffee tins held bills. Even the box of brown sugar held bills. She tried to keep a running total of the money in her brain, but when it got to over ten thousand dollars, she gave up for the time being. All the while, her mind tried to rationalize why there was so much hidden money.
An hour later, Cortland had filled the kitchen table with stacks of bills sorted by denomination. “Why, Aunt Faith? Why did you hide all this money?” Neither Uncle Mayer nor Aunt Faith had gone through the Great Depression, so it wasn’t a habit picked up then. They might have been taught to be frugal with money by their parents, who had struggled through that era. Who would know?
Were they trying to hide their farm income from the IRS? Possibly. There wasn’t a bank in Hope where they could have deposited it to keep it safe. The closest bank was in Girdwood. Or Whittier. Cortland wasn’t sure which one her aunt had used.
“Hmmm.” Cortland stood in from of the door to Aunt Faith’s bedroom. Grasping the doorknob, she gave it a twist and stepped inside.
The smell of Aunt Faith’s perfume still lingered in the air. Fainter now than when she had first moved into the house. Cortland had hoped to leave it as it was, her heart reverent for her aunt’s memory and possessions. On the nightstand was the journal she had consulted after receiving the letter. Cortland had never looked at her aunt’s intimate thoughts, only the last page as directed. It felt like an invasion of privacy. But maybe it held a clue as to the reason for hoarding money in odd places.
She took the book out to the living room and sank into the comfy overstuffed chair. She opened the journal to the first page. The date wasn’t terribly old, February 3, 2019. Did she have more? Previous journals? Cortland would have to look later. She started reading, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach as the wall clock chimed the noon hour.
Two hours later, Cortland closed the journal and struggled to her feet. The book’s last page was the same as she had last seen it. It said Pegasus Fund and held a long list of sums. Each addition adding up from the previous. There weren’t any dollar signs, yet Cortland could only guess. Could this be her aunt’s running total of the cash stowed away in the basement? None of the entries were dated. The last count said 54,693.
She felt giddy with laughter as she bolted for the kitchen and counted the stacks of bills. Her total was only $15,721. Where’s the rest? A whopping $38,972 was missing. Was it gone? Was it spent? Or was there more money hidden away somewhere else in the house?
It was after midnight when Cortland called it quits. She had searched every room in the house. Every box, carton, and bag had been checked. Every article of clothing that had pockets was checked. Books and magazines were opened, and pages were fluttered. Bills fell out. Oodles of bills were found. She put them all in the sink to keep them separate from the money already counted. The lack of sleep and food made her lids droop and her energy wane. But she wanted to count one more time. She sorted the bills, laying them in stacks on the kitchen counter by denomination as she had done on the kitchen table. Then she counted, writing the total for each stack down on a scrap of paper before getting her cell phone to total the list on the calculator app.
“Another $15,269.” She told Harris, who sat at her feet, his eyes looking wary. “It’s okay, boy.” She tried to soothe him. His soulful eyes gazed back at her accusingly. “I forgot to feed you too, didn’t I? Hang tight one more minute. I have to count the grand total.”
Her fingers entered the new number to the old sum. The total was $30,990. “That’s $23,703 short.” As she made Harris and the four cats their dinner, she mulled over the places she had looked. It seemed to her she had checked the entire house and everything in it.
A knock at the back door made her jump. Dawson’s face, surrounded by the night sky, showed in the window.
Cortland hurried over to open the door. “I promise I’ll get you a key tomorrow,” she said, watching him silently walk past her to stare at the table and countertop.
“Sorry, I’m so late. A mutual aid fire call to Girdwood,” he started to explain. Then his eyes widened. “Where the hell—?”
“All over the house. Isn’t it amazing?”
Cortland told him about her initial find and her extensive search. Then she showed him the journal page labeled Pegasus Fund. His eyes widened as he registered what she was saying. “Look, the total here is 54,693. But I’ve only found $30,990.”
His eyes widened larger this time. “There’s more?” His voice cracked, the incredulity evident in his tone.
“Possibly. Somewhere. Another $23,703 is missing?”
Dawson glanced back at the journal page. “Pegasus Fund. Why do you think she called it that?”
She shrugged, biting her lower lip. “I haven’t a clue—” She froze. Could it be? She snatched up the lantern and a screwdriver. “Oh my God. I think I know. I can’t believe I forgot all about it.”
Following her lead, Dawson carried the lantern for her as she strode out of the house and into the barn. She went all the way down to her horse’s stall. Pegasus must have heard her coming or smelled her. He stood up from his pile of straw to greet her. She slipped into his stall, patting his withers as she squeezed by him and went to the corner where his food was placed. Dropping to her knees, she waved Dawson over. “I need more light.” He obliged, cautiously entering the horse’s stall. Pegasus pawed at the floor and snorted. Dawson shrank back against the stall wall. “He’ll be okay,” Cortland said when she saw fear flicker in Dawson’s eyes.
Standing over her, he held the light up, away from the hay stuffed in the bin. Cortland brushed the stray bits of hay and straw bedding away to clear the floor in that one spot. A dirty stone tile lay there. Cortland cleared the dirt from the sides with the screwdriver and her hands. Then she levered the screwdriver’s tip underneath the tile and lifted it out. Underneath it was a sturdy metal box. She pulled that out also and set it beside her.
The light shifted as Dawson maneuvered to a better location to see and illuminate the find.
“This is it,” Cortland said as she unclasped the lid and opened the box.
The light shone into the box, revealing two tight packs of one-hundred-dollar bills and a smaller stack of paper-clipped mixed bills. “That’s another twenty thousand dollars,” she said, indicating the packed bills. “I can only guess the remaining $23,703.00 is the paper-clipped stack.
“There’s something else in the box,” Dawson said as he peered over her shoulder.
The lantern light caused a glimmer in the bottom corner of the box. Cortland lifted the bills to reveal a sapphire brooch and an engagement ring. Aunt Faith’s engagement ring, the one that had been missing when she and her father had looked for it months ago.
Dawson whispered, “I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen so much money.”
“I can. I seem to remember when I was first visiting, going to the store with my aunt. She bought a few things for Uncle Mayer with cash he had given her. As the cashier gave her change, she told me not to tell Uncle Mayer how much she had spent. I didn’t think anything of it, though I thought the request was peculiar until I watched my aunt pull up this box and leave the change in it.” Cortland put the tile back where it had been. Grasping the box, the couple left the stall and barn, returning to the house.
They sat at the kitchen table dumbfounded by the presence of so much cash.
Cortland reached out her hand to touch the nearest stack. “This must be the legacy my aunt’s letter mentioned. She’s been saving it all those years. All for me,” she whispered.
“What are you going to do with all of it?” Dawson asked as he made them both mugs of hot tea.
“Fix up the place: the electrical grid in the barn, the plumbing, repaint the house,” Cortland replied.
They gathered the cash, stuffing it all into the metal box. Cortland started to put it away in a kitchen cabinet.
“Wait.” Dawson took the box from her, set it on the table, and pawed through it. He pulled out the ring. “We might decide to use this.” His eyes seemed to search hers for a reaction.
Cortland stammered, “I—I think we might.” She cleared her throat. “In the future.”
Dawson raised one eyebrow. “In the not-too-distant future?”
She chuckled softly and took his hand. “Yes.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Steven Long and Brian Long, who have been both volunteer and career firefighters for well over thirty years each by my estimation. And congratulations to my nephew as he embarks on his own career firefighter job! Stay safe out there guys!
Veterinarian suicide rates average 2 ½ times higher than in the rest of the population. Female veterinarians are about 3 ½ times as likely to die by suicide. Long hours, poor work-life balance, the weight of the responsibility of delivering bad news and client high expectations. Most vet schools seek out perfectionists, a personality type that is also susceptible to anxiety and depression in this demanding career choice. Add to that the meager pay scales and the mountain of school debt. Student loan debt averages about $143K with some running as high as 400K. While starting vet salaries are about 56K and the average is about 105K.
If you know a veterinarian, please give them your support.
Not One More Vet www.nomv.org
Coming Soon!
FIRST CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT : CHAPTER ONE
“Special order, a Rueben with a fried egg,” Vanessa said, setting the order slip on the countertop before disappearing through the kitchen door at Jam Bakery.
“Oh, that sounds yum,” Isabelle Becker said aloud as she started making the breakfast sandwich. The fresh, free-range egg sizzled on the small hot griddle in the corner kitchen space. Behind her, the morning baking crew was finishing up preparing the bread and pastries for the day. She threw the corned beef on the griddle for a few seconds to warm it up and dropped the swiss cheese on top, giving it a half minute to melt. The aromas made her mouth water as she assembled the stack of fried egg, corned beef, cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing to the lightly toasted rye bread. Thinking she had to make one for herself tomorrow morning, she wrapped the breakfast sandwich in foil before dropping it in a paper bag.
Snatching the order slip up from the countertop, she glanced at the name. “Gilbert.” She smiled as a wave of reminiscence spread through her chest. She had loved that name since first seeing the Anne of Green Gables miniseries as a little girl decades ago. The character, Gilbert Blythe, eventually became Anne Shirley’s husband. The actor who played him soared to instant fame with teenage females for his good looks and dreamy countenance. Isabelle remembered taping his picture all over her school locker. Her mind wandered further as she threw a handful of napkins into the paper bag. Gilbert was also the name of a friend of hers in high school. What ever happened to Gilbert Darrow? He was also kind of dreamy looking, but they had only been friends; fellow classmates and the rest of their clique hung out between classes, during lunch, and study halls.
The swinging doors bounced open as she walked from the kitchen into the front sales and dining area. Not looking at the small crowd at the counter, she held up the bag and yelled, “Gilbert.”
A man stepped forward. “Isabelle?”
Startled, she looked at the customer, her arm dropping to her side, the bag still in hand. “Gil? Gil Darrow?” And here he was, in the flesh, and boy oh boy did that flesh look mighty fine. The last time she had seen him, Gil still looked like a scrawny teenager. Here he was filled out into mouth-watering manhood.
“I thought you were in Chicago.” His sparkling blue eyes peered out from under an errant wave of red-brown hair.
His sawdust-laced jeans, chambray shirt, and a two or three-day-old scruff gave him a down-home, country look that made her mouth go dry. She cleared her throat to get it working again. “Uhm, I was in Chicago for college. I’ve been back in Vermont for a while now.”
“Hmm.” His gaze roamed over her face before dropping to her hand.
“Oops, sorry. Here you go. I hope you enjoy it.” She held out the paper bag. “It’s great to see you again.” When he took it from her, her eyes lingered on his body a moment before she turned and headed for the kitchen door.
“Isabelle, wait,” he called out.
She froze in her tracks, her heart thumping faster at the sound of his voice.
When she turned back, he added, “Can you join me for a few minutes?
Other books by Diana Rock
Fulton River Falls Series:
Melt My Heart
Proof of Love
Bloomin’ In Love
First Christmas Ornament
(release date November 2022)
Book #5-Title TBA (releases date: 2023)
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Colby County Series:
Bid to Love
Courting Choices
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MovieStuds Series
Hollywood Hotshot
Hollywood Hotdogger (release date 2023)
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DianaRock.com