Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(41)

Caroline smiled. “I’m sure she appreciated—”

“She certainly did. But having the picture was a big responsibility. It meant I had to find the right person to give it to.”

“Why was Grandma the right person?”

“In time you’ll understand.” Peter laughed. “Now that Ida’s no longer here, I believe you’re the right person.”

“Me?” Caroline held onto the picture for a moment, then passed it back to Peter. “I don’t think so. What with buying food and household expenses, I’m kind of strapped for cash. Maybe next time—”

Peter handed the picture back to her. “It’s a gift. Hang it over your desk, and it will give you the freedom to write.”

“Oh, you mean like a source of inspiration?”

“You could say that,” Peter replied. “Like a source of inspiration.”





Wilbur Washington





Having boys is a whole lot easier than having girls. I know, because Martha and I raised two boys. When one of them was staring trouble in the eye, I’d say, Toughen up, kid. Act like a man! That works fine for boys, but what do you say to a girl?

Especially a girl who isn’t ready to listen.

I know she’s not really my granddaughter, but I think Ida would want me to think of her that way. That’s how Ida was. She took care of any needy soul who came her way. She was the sort who’d take a mongrel dog from the street and treat him like he had a pedigree.

No question Ida had a big heart, but she also had a misplaced sense of loyalty when it came to Max. Being he was Big Jim’s brother she felt she owed him, and that’s why she let him move in. Of course, she had no way of knowing what would happen after she was gone.

Damn, I miss that woman. We all do. Louie misses her because of the cooking, but I miss her because she was someone I could be with and talk to. I never said so, but in the way old folks come to care for one another, I was in love with Ida. It wasn’t the kind of love I had with Martha, or, for that matter, the kind Ida had with Big Jim. But we certainly were fond of each other. When you get to our age, love is an easygoing thing; it’s not steeped in passion but found in a touch or a smile. It’s simply knowing someone is there for you and they’ve got an ear to listen. There were many evenings when the two of us sat on the porch swing creaking back and forth, not saying a word. We didn’t have to; just the touch of our bodies next to one another felt sweet as warm honey. Lord God, how I miss those times.

With Ida gone Caroline needs someone to watch over her. Max is her uncle, but I can assure you he’s not looking out for her best interest. It’s unfortunate that she doesn’t see the truth of what he is. She believes because he’s her granddaddy’s brother, he’ll eventually get over being mad. I’ve met men like Max before and I’m warning you, they don’t get over anything. They might make you think they have, but in the long run they’ll get what they want, even if it means stepping over your body to do so.

That’s something Caroline is too young to realize.

I haven’t got a whole lot to give the girl, but the one thing I can give her is the wisdom of my years. For whatever that’s worth.





The Watch and the Wash





In early May Wilbur’s pocket watch mysteriously disappeared. He searched the house, looking in even the most unlikely nooks and crannies, but found nothing. He asked each of the residents if they’d happened upon his watch, and when they answered no he lifted the sofa cushions and peered beneath the beds.

Sixty years of pulling the watch from his pocket to check the time was a habit Wilbur found impossible to break. And once the watch was gone it seemed he reached for it all the more often. His hand would slip to his vest pocket and feel the emptiness; then a look of longing would drift across his face.

Caroline noticed.

On the third Tuesday of May, she returned to the Previously Loved Treasures store in search of a pocket watch.

“With large numbers,” she said, “and a chain.”

“Got it,” Peter Pennington replied. He climbed onto the yellow step stool, pulled a box from the shelf, and removed a watch that could have easily been the one Wilbur lost. It wasn’t just similar to the missing watch; it was an exact replica.

When she asked the price, Peter said, “One coin.”

“One coin?”

He nodded in that strange way he had of bobbing his head without taking his eyes from hers. “Reach in your pocket and pull out a coin. Whatever that coin is will be the price of the watch.”

“What if it’s a penny?”

“Then that’s the price.”

Caroline laughed. With little to lose, she stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a quarter.

“Oh, dear.” Peter furrowed his brow. “I thought it was going to be a dime.”

“Isn’t a quarter better?”

“No, it’s way too much.”

Caroline eyed the watch. It ticked with the precision of Big Ben and was without flaw. “Too much?”

“It’s used,” Peter explained. “Previously loved.”

Sticking with his opinion that a quarter was overpriced, Peter scrambled back up the yellow step stool and brought down a music box. “I’ll include this,” he said. He twisted the key, and the angel atop the box turned round and round as the music tinkled.