Sitting on a Fortune Page 6

  “But last year, we were dealing with illegal cockfights and a gambling ring. This time, we’re merely searching for a lost dog.”

  “I seem to remember dogs in that location, as well.”

  Madison made one very important distinction. “Unlike the Rottweilers, this is a friendly dog.”

  “I assume you plan to go, with or without my help,” Genny surmised.

  “How can I not? He’s my client.”

  With a resigned sigh, Genny asked, “Do I need anything special? Running shoes? Black clothing? A supply of pork chops?”

  Madison looked at her friend in confusion. “Pork chops?”

  “It’s a dog. I thought you might try to lure him out with food.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, but no, you don’t have to sacrifice tomorrow’s lunch special.”

  “You wanted to go tonight?” Genny asked in dismay. “The hubby and I have plans.”

  It was still odd, thinking of Genny as a married woman, but Madison had never seen her friend happier than she was now.

  “I don’t want to ruin any plans you and Cutter have,” Madison replied. “I know it means waiting all weekend, but I was thinking Monday afternoon. Before five o’clock.” When Genny merely studied her with narrowed eyes, Madison scowled. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t plan to break into his house and barn. I just want to look around.”

  “While he’s at the store,” Genny clarified.

  “You know it’s ingrained in our Southern hospitality to invite visitors in for refreshments. This way, I’m saving him the bother.”

  Her friend wasn’t buying it. “I don’t think Lamont Andrews is the sort of man who’s concerned with the rules of hospitality.”

  “But why put him to the test?” Madison reasoned. “I’ll just have a look while he’s not around and save us both an unpleasant confrontation.”

  Genny frowned. “In an odd way, that almost makes sense.”

  “Then you’ll go with me?”

  “Sure. We haven’t had much excitement in the last couple of weeks.”

  “And with any luck, we won’t have any then, either. Just a simple recon mission.”

  Genny’s dimple showed again when she grinned. “When are any of our schemes simple?”

  Over the course of their twenty-five-year friendship, the two had freely schemed and plotted, always knowing the other had her back. Explanations and excuses weren’t necessary; if one asked for help, the other agreed, no questions asked. Things didn’t always go quite as planned, but they never faced the situation alone. Whether it was getting stuck on the water tower while writing ‘Seniors 95’ in hot-pink letters, fleeing across a field in the dark while chased by dangerous men, startled goats and angry Rottweilers, being trapped in a burning house after ‘letting themselves in’ to snoop, stealing away to Ft. Hood to see a boyfriend deploy only to discover he was a three-time cheater, or dozens of other antics that ranged from hilarious to harrowing, the friends came through the trials and triumphs. Together.

  “So, maybe we get off track some of the time…” Madison agreed with an innocent shrug.

  “More like most of the time!” The bell on the door jangled, drawing Genny’s attention. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil.”

  Mr. Pruett shuffled into the diner, clad in his customary khaki outfit. He seated himself at his favorite table, not far from where the two women sat. They could easily hear him place his order for chicken-fried steak and a glass of sweet tea.

  “Told you.” Genny grinned.

  “If only his tales were as dependable.”

  Before the after-school waitress had an opportunity to escape, Mr. Pruett started on one of his stories. Genny made a mental note to commend her girl later; to her credit, the teenager bit back a grimace and managed to look semi-interested in what he had to say. She politely listened as he rambled on with his latest rant.

  Today, he obsessed on another conspiracy theory. One word piqued Madison’s interest.

  Gold.

  Sitting up straighter, she strained to hear his words. Laughter from another table made the rant difficult to hear. Catching only a word here and there, she frowned over at her friend. “What’s he saying about gold and some government conspiracy?”

  “Ooh! I know this one!” Genny’s eyes twinkled with animated glee. She bounced in her seat and patted the table like a game contestant ringing a bell. “It’s his latest and greatest obsession. Something about the government confiscating all the gold. Something about Teddy Roosevelt and the urgent need to hide all gold and silver from the ‘prying eyes of Big Brother.’ He gets really worked up over this one.”

  Still acting as if it were all a game, Genny missed Madison’s audible gulp.

  “Hiding… gold?” she squeaked. For thirty glorious moments, she had forgotten about her own quandary over hidden gold. It came back now with a sickening rush.

  Genny still hadn’t noticed her discomfort. She was too busy mimicking the older man’s voice, repeating the words she heard often enough. “It’s the only way to preserve our constitutional rights. We have a duty to our forefathers to—”

  The laughter from the other table died down. They could hear Mr. Pruett again, his voice ringing loud and clear. Genny yielded to the words from the man himself, almost in perfect sync with her own.

  “—to our forefathers to resist the call to turn in our gold. The certificates they’ll give in exchange aren’t worth the paper they’re written on! It’s Roosevelt’s way of seizing what’s rightfully ours so the government has total control of the gold market. That way, they can make us or break us at will. Mark my words, you’d better hide every ounce of gold and precious metals you possess. Do not hand them over to the government!”

  “That should be easy enough,” the young waitress said with a sad sigh. “I don’t own any.” She generously overlooked the fact that Roosevelt was simply a name from her history books. All she knew about him was that he was once president.

  “Believe me, I have mine stored in a secure location. I’ve acquired an impressive collection of jewels and precious metals over the years, but I swear on the grave of my beloved wife, Big Brother will never find them and take them from me!” He pounded the table for emphasis, his usually colorless cheeks taking on a blush of anger.

  “Big Brother?” Latricia was clearly confused by the term.

  “Uh-oh,” Genny said, all traces of her former humor gone. “Looks like it’s time for me step in and save the girl from a totally different rant, this one on the internet and the invasion of our privacy. It’s the infamous book 1980 come to life, he claims.” With a roll of her eyes, Genny slid from the booth and bid her friend farewell.

  Nine

  It was a rare occurrence, but Madison had the evening to herself. Being Friday, Bethani was spending the night with Megan at the Aikman household. Blake would go home with Jamal after their out-of-town baseball game. Madison usually attended his games, but this one was two hours away and a rare miss for her.

  With the kids gone and Brash at work, it left Madison free to peruse the old journals in leisure.

  As fascinating as the entries were, she didn’t have time to read every one of them. There were twenty-six journals in all, spanning seven decades.

  Instead, she concentrated on searching the flowing script for key words and references to anything hidden. Given the fact Miss Juliet was unaware of the illegal moonshine still in the basement or the hidden spiral staircase that secreted from her bedroom to the crude room in the sub-basement, Madison didn’t hold much hope for such insight.

  The entries were like a time capsule into the past, detailing the growth of the area and the slow and withering death of the author’s most cherished dreams. Juliet Randolph began the journals as a young woman, full of hopes and ambitions. She had grand plans for the future and for the newly established town bearing her name. The pages chronicled the path of her life, which started with such sweet promise, but slowly soured with time.


  The turning point in her life hinged upon one fateful summer. Those few months held the happiest moments of Juliet’s time on Earth, as well as the most devastating.

  In the spring of 1919, cotton king Bertram Randolph’s illness exceeded the knowledge of local doctors. A specialist came in from Boston, a handsome young man who promptly stole the heart of both of Randolph’s daughters. Though by all accounts a brilliant physician, he couldn’t save the man’s life, but his arrival changed the towns forever.

  The story was a staple in local lore, about how Darwin Blakely couldn’t decide between the prim and proper Juliet, and the vivacious and daring Naomi. His indecision cemented the rivalry between the bickering sisters and their prospective towns. Dallying with both women’s affections, he finally made his choice, but the damage was done. Soon after he and Juliet returned from their honeymoon trip, word came that Naomi was expecting his child, and the downward spiral began.

  Madison didn’t bother reading the entries from that time. Having read them before, she knew they were filled with alternating bouts of fury, hatred, betrayal, and humiliation. She remembered that, ironically, most of the rage was directed solely at the sister, and not the man responsible for her pregnancy. Many people believed Darwin Blakely took the coward’s way out when he died in a freak accident mere weeks after the discovery. It was no wonder his widow turned bitter after that, valuing her pride and her standing in the community more than she valued her own flesh and blood. The entries immediately following Darwin’s death were even more difficult to read, so Madison chose not to. She skimmed the pages, at best, hoping a single key word would pop out at her.

  When she finally came across the word treasure, she snapped to attention and pulled the leather-bound book in for closer inspection.

  Despite the gaping hole left in my soul, despite the pain that seems too heavy for one heart to bear, I cherish the brief time I had with my beloved husband. He made my life richer for being in it. The treasures he gave me go beyond the weight of gold and the sparkle of jewels; Darwin gave to me his heart. He shared with me his dreams. He shared his hopes for making a difference in the medical field, not just here but worldwide. He wanted to one day travel the world and introduce modern medicine to foreign lands. My dearest husband possessed a generous heart; his inheritance was destined for something greater than himself, he claimed. His was a golden dream. A golden life tarnished too soon by the cruel hand of fate.

  Madison read the words a second time, trying desperately to read between the lines. Was there a hidden meaning among the prose? Why had she chosen those particular words? Words like weight of gold, sparkle of jewels, and golden? What was this inheritance she mentioned?

  Though no one had ever said as much, Madison always had the impression that Darwin had been a bit of a fortune seeker. Apparently, Granny Bert didn’t share that impression, however, as she had named one of her sons after the man. No doubt, she had chosen the name out of respect for her friend and the warm memories the older woman shared of him.

  Not being privy to those memories, Madison knew very little about the man, other than he was some fancy doctor from up North and considered a specialist, something that was still rare in those days. She knew an advanced education came at a cost, which suggested he was a man of means. Having heard the stories of how he toyed with the two sisters’ hearts, she always thought it had more to do with money than it did love. She suspected he chose the woman most likely to advance his career: Naomi was too unpredictable and outspoken for most social circles, after all, whereas Juliet was the epitome of good manners and the perfect hostess for a distinguished doctor’s climb up the ladder of success.

  She had drawn her conclusions, in part, from a conversation she and Granny Bert had not so long ago. The first time Madison read the journals, she ran across an entry referring to Darwin’s grandchildren. Sadly, Love, the daughter he had with Naomi, died as she gave birth to her second child. More than once, Love’s drunken, widowed husband had come to Miss Juliet, demanding money he felt his family was entitled to. According to her grandmother, Juliet’s lawyer insisted the illegitimate heirs had no legal claim to her fortune, primarily because Darwin Blakely did not contribute to her wealth. In her mind, that equated to him mooching off the cotton baroness, but what if she were wrong? They were hardly married long enough for the ink to dry on their marriage certificate, much less their bank statements. Just because Darwin was a two-timing scoundrel didn’t mean he had no money.

  Maybe she had been wrong about him. She knew being a cad had nothing to do with what was in a man’s wallet, and everything to do with what was in his heart. What if they each had their independent fortunes, left to them by wealthy parents? What if Darwin’s inheritance included four sizable gold nuggets and a unique necklace?

  Still, why would that inheritance be stuffed inside a chair cushion? It made no sense.

  Madison made herself a note to learn more about Darwin Blakely. She jotted down a few thoughts before returning to the journal. Flipping back to entries first mentioning him, she read word for word. Considering the physician quickly became the enamored writer’s favorite subject, she realized it might take a while. Miss Juliet penned page after page about the man, extolling his endless virtues and recalling every moment they spent together. Why mention something as mundane as a metallic rock when she could write endlessly about the light in his tender eyes or the strength in his arm when he escorted her to and from his prized automobile?

  Madison gave special attention to the entries around Darwin’s proposal and their brief engagement. There was no hint of a dowry or an extravagant wedding present from her bridegroom. Instead, her husband gifted her something much more personal—a built-in bookcase for the bedroom, where she could keep her most treasured trove of books. Madison already knew he had commissioned the piece to be built while they visited his family in Philadelphia, even though, unbeknownst to them, the carpenter added special details of his own. Their month-long absence offered plenty of time to construct the secret staircase and dugout room, hidden deftly behind the new bookcase.

  Considering the possibility that they may have brought the inheritance home with them when they returned to Texas, Maddy searched for mention of added baggage or perhaps the generosity of his family. There was nothing to hint at either. Growing frustrated, she spent the rest of the evening pouring through the journals until her back ached and her eyes threatened to cross. Worst of all, she was barely through the decade in which the couple married. Another five or so decades loomed ahead, waiting for her in yet more journals.

  Feeling defeated, Madison returned the books to the secret cubbyhole in the second-floor library. In the future, she would pull the volumes out one by one as she read them. Climbing up and down to retrieve and replace two dozen books was hard on her back, and perhaps part of the reason for its protest. Plus, removing the leather-bound journals left her newly added box exposed and unprotected. If she wanted to keep the box’s golden contents a secret, she couldn’t risk having it seen.

  On impulse, Madison opened the box, just to make certain the items were still safely tucked inside.

  It felt wrong, somehow, leaving such a valuable necklace to tangle there in a box otherwise filled with rocks. Even if those rocks were made of gold, wasn’t it possible they might crush the chain? Somehow rub against the pendant and knock a jewel loose? She had no idea of the necklace’s actual worth, but it had to be in the hundreds of thousands; even without the diamonds and rubies, the nugget was quite large and quite valuable. It seemed almost sacrilegious to leave it there, unprotected, to languish in a simple cardboard box.

  “I suppose it’s better than being stuffed inside cotton batting, crushed by who knows how many tooshes over the years,” she murmured aloud. “It’s a wonder it’s still in one piece!”

  She pulled the necklace out to examine it. She hadn’t decided yet if she thought it was exquisite or atrocious. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was one of a kind. T
he nugget itself was in its natural state, leaving her to suspect the irregular heart-like shape of the stone was compliments of Mother Nature, rather than a jeweler. Left unpolished, it was rough and jagged in places. In those crevices and cracks, jewels had been added. Madison was hardly a diamond expert, but she had no doubt these were the real thing. The only question was why someone would stud a raw nugget of gold with such precious stones. Surely, the jewels would have more value if they were set in a traditional form of jewelry. She could envision the diamonds and rubies swirled into a magnificent ring. Imagined them fashioned into a proper pendant, secured in place by delicate white-gold prongs.

  How were these jewels even attached? If she didn’t know better, she would think this was an amateur job. But who kept a collection of precious stones laying around for a craft project? And who used a gold nugget worth hundreds of thousands of dollars as a blank canvas? Something was off about this piece of jewelry. It was too unusual to be ignored, yet too odd to be admired.

  Still undecided on how she felt about the piece, Madison returned it to the box, but not before wrapping it in a tissue. It seemed the least she could do to protect it. At the last minute, she snapped a photo of it with her phone, marking the picture Hidden.

  Tucking the box back behind the journals, another piece of jewelry flashed through her mind. The jewels from the Gold and Silver Exchange were as out of place on the dog collar as they were on this crude gold nugget.

  “Obviously, some people have far more money than I do,” she reasoned with a sigh, “if they can place precious stones so frivolously. If I had a dozen or so extra diamonds laying around…”

  She never finished her sentence.

  “And what would you do, wife of mine, with a dozen or so extra diamonds?” Brash’s voice asked from the doorway. The sound startled her so badly, she almost fell from her perch as she slid the hidden panel back in place.

  “Watch it, Maddy!” he warned sharply, rushing across the room to act as a safety net. His handsome face pulled into a scowl. “What are you doing up there to begin with?”