To Cap, Nash asks, “You know where it is?”
Cap scrapes olives off a toothpick with his teeth, chewing them slowly before resting the toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “Thought I did.”
Nash rereads the article then leans back in his seat and takes his glasses off. He rubs a hand along the scruff of his jaw, mulling.
“I also thought we were divorced,” I say in his silence. “But my mother bamboozled me and never mailed these.” I reach into my purse, pulse quickening as I fumble to find the envelope with divorce papers and hand them to him. “If you can just sign the papers and tell us what we need to know, we’ll be on our way.”
Nash takes the envelope but doesn’t open it, tossing it onto the table with the article. He takes a long sip of his drink, then lets out a satisfiedahh.
“You get my postcards?”
I fidget with the brim of my hat. “The first one. The rest I got a few days ago.”
His brows pinch.
“Also my mother’s handiwork,” I explain.
He laughs through a breath. “And?”
“And what?”
“And what did you think of them?”
“You writing over and over again tocome and get mewith random addresses?” I sniff, just as annoyed as I was the first time I thumbed through them and saw the same ignorant words written on repeat. “Sounds like you took our marriage as seriously as you take the rest of your life.”
We look at each other so long we might be in a staring contest.
“She’s here until she finds the gold,” Cap pipes in without invitation.
“The faster the better,” I amend. “Two weeks tops.” Or two days based on the fact I have $505.29 and no hotel room.
“For goldfinding?” Nash asks around the rim of his glass.
“Yes.” I roll my shoulders. “And divorcing.”
To Cap, he asks, “You have a copy of the Anson Burns letter?”
Cap nods. “And copies of the documents from officials.”
“What do you need me for?”
“Apparently the clues take you to historic landmarks or something,” I explain. “Dadhere says that they’re guarded and monitored, thus his soirée with the law. Maybe you could give us advice on how to get around some of it. Stay out of jail.”
His eyes widen. “You’re planning on breaking into historically preserved sites?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Not a prayer you’ll pull that off.”
“Why not?”
“Because they are protected in every sense of the word. They’re valuable. You think they don’t have systems in place to keep people from getting in? That they wouldn’t have already found the gold if it was there?”
If Jonathan couldn’t talk me out of this, neither can he.
“I seem to remember a time you could convince me to go places I shouldn’t go and do things I shouldn’t do.” Our eyes meet and hold, letting the history between us hang with the briny scent of the restaurant. I wonder if he’s thinking about the rows of vineyards we snuck away to and stripped down on the first night we met. The slow mornings together. I’m certainly not. I’m here for the gold and to get rid of him. “But since you’ve apparently gone soft to breaking the rules, I’m not asking you to do anything except advise us. Cap—” Cap grunts. “Dadhas a few questions. If you could answer them—and sign the papers—then we’ll be out of your hair.”
Then I’ll tell him about Bennie as we’re driving away.
Nash takes another sip of his drink. “Why do you want this gold so badly?”
It only takes hours of being around Nash for me to see that he’s fine. He’s been here for years and was calledbossman. He’s at least slightly more stable than he used to be but just as relaxed. Just as fun in his shirts and playing his stupid harmonica for a gaggle of fangirls who are having wet dreams about him while they’re wide awake. I do not want him to know how not okay I am. If he’s not broke, I’m not broke. If his mom doesn’t have a brain tumor, neither does mine. If he’s dandy, well so the hell am I. I’m here for a job, albeit a personal one, and that’s how I’m going to play it.
