He Started It(44)

“Alliances never last,” she said.

Dad taught us that. He was also the one who stopped her that night, because he had his own secret mission. His was to take over Asia, but to get there he took over Australia for strategic purposes. Europe, too. Nikki was almost out when Mom saved her. She swooped right in, with me as an ally, and we took out Dad.

“But why?” Dad asked Mom.

She shrugged. “Because I could.”

Despite all of these takeovers, no one completed their secret mission.

That was the last time we ever played Risk. After Nikki was gone, no one ever brought it up again.



* * *



–––––

Felix doesn’t mention Grandpa’s missing ashes until I take my second bite of the buffalo burger.

“You haven’t said anything about the ashes,” Felix says.

He’s right, and it’s because nothing about the ashes makes sense. “Eddie has pretty much covered that topic. Why have everyone panicking?”

“You’re panicked about it?”

I finish eating an onion ring before answering. “I’m disturbed. The tire and the starter thing, maybe I can rationalize. But Grandpa’s ashes?” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“You think it was those guys in the truck?”

“Could be. The only other option I see is that Eddie did bring them into the room in Colorado. Maybe Krista didn’t bring them back out, so they’re still sitting in that room.”

Felix thinks about this, nods. “Especially if he hid them in the room. She might’ve forgotten all about them.”

I laugh a little, though it’s hardly funny. “We all forgot. And those ashes are the reason we’re on this trip.”

Felix doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, but I know we’re both thinking the same thing. If the ashes are really gone, will the lawyer know? Will he refuse to give us the money?

“There’s something else we need to talk about,” Felix says. “But don’t get mad.”

I freeze, holding the buffalo burger halfway to my mouth. “That’s the worst way to start a conversation.”

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” I say. “Is this about us?”

“No, but I find it strange you think it is.”

“What else would I think? You said we needed to talk. That’s what people think when you say that.”

He sighs and throws his napkin down. I think if he ever threw anything heavier, it would shock me. Even the napkin tells me this trip is getting to him. It’s getting to all of us, but Felix shows it on his pale face. Those dark circles under his eyes stick out like bruises. “I’m still talking about the ashes.”

Of course he is. Who would talk about their marriage at Buffalo Burger?

Actually, Felix might.

He did propose right outside of an Applebee’s, although at the time we were both still in college and buried in bills, so going out to eat anywhere was considered a treat. I’ve always thought it was a funny story and have told it many times at dinner parties, especially when anyone asks about my ring.

When he kneeled down and asked me to marry him, he held out a silver ring with a green stone in it. Not an emerald, just green quartz that resembled one. I still wear it. Now the ring looks like an antique because the silver is so tarnished—yes, you guessed it, just like our marriage. That was too easy to miss.

But having my marriage end at Buffalo Burger would not be a good story. That’s the story of a tragically bad romantic comedy. On the upside, the food is already paid for.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I thought you were talking about us.”

“No.” He slurps up the last of his soda and clears his throat. “I just wanted to throw something out there. I’m not suggesting anything.”

“Go ahead. I won’t be mad.”

“Did you ever think that whoever is sabotaging us is also traveling with us?”

Why yes, Felix. I did think of this. With over $3 million at stake and two siblings I almost never see and hardly trust, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t consider it. As you already know, anyone can be the villain. There could even be more than one.

“I don’t know why Eddie or Portia would sabotage the whole trip,” I say. “Then no one would get any money.”

Felix nods, says nothing.

“What?” I say.

“Oh, I’m probably just being paranoid. I just keep thinking about the tire and the starter relay, and now the ashes. I can’t imagine those guys in the truck would do that.”

He’s not being paranoid. A few hours ago, I might’ve said he was, but I haven’t told him what I found near the car, right after Eddie searched through the bags. I haven’t even taken it out of my pocket. It’s still there, damn near burning a hole through my jeans.

The button. A large, round, golden button.

I wish we had never kept it.





The Peak Valley Inn has a platinum-level vending machine. No empty spaces, no fading wrappers, no cracked plexiglass. A good mix of salty and sweet, plus individual packs of laundry detergent, toothpaste, and tampons. I’m so inspired that I do my laundry in their coin-operated machines, and it’s so impressive that they work, I almost feel bad for underestimating this motel.