Brandon laughed. “Noon? Maybe after we can find a fun place for lunch.”
Maddie agreed, and they hung up. She hauled herself from the sofa, grabbed her crutches, purse, keys, and then hooked the key to the mysterious cabinet onto the same ring. She read her grandmother’s note again, dropped it, along with her keys, into her purse, and then made her way to the bedroom. Lunch on Martha’s Vineyard was definitely worthy of changing into something nicer than denim and an old top.
* * *
It took longer to get to the airport than Maddie expected. She kept forgetting that the island wasn’t small. The weekend traffic didn’t help.
Brandon came alone because his mother railroaded Jeremy into staying with her and reviewing her plans for the Labor Day wedding ceremony. Maddie would not be attending; she’d be back in Green Hills by then, back in the real world, her world. Clearing out the storage unit would put her a step closer.
They finally made it to the airport and Brandon found the storage center. After passing through the security gates, they easily located unit #373. Without hesitating, Maddie keyed in the security code. The door started to open.
“You remembered the number?” Brandon asked. “I’m impressed.”
“It was easy. Five-one-three-five-four. It stands for May 13, 1954,” she replied. “My mother’s birthday.”
He exhaled like Maddie would have exhaled if she weren’t holding her breath, anxious about what they were going to find.
The first thing they saw was an old pickup, parked almost the whole length of the unit. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Brandon said, “Well. It’s a truck.”
Maddie let out her breath. “I wonder what year it is.”
“Last century, I believe.”
“Or the one before.”
They edged toward it, as if expecting to be greeted by a calamity, not the multitude of cardboard boxes that were piled in the truck bed and reached halfway to the ceiling. At least the cardboard wouldn’t need a key.
Brandon tried the passenger door of the cab; it was open. An ignition key was on the seat, resting on another note. He read the contents to Maddie.
Here’s the key to Orson. Butchie named him that after an old friend who some folks thought had been lost at sea, but he’d really snuck off island to get away from his bad-tempered wife. Butchie always kept Orson’s secret, but that was back in 1963, and to my knowledge, none of the parties involved are still around.
On my 80th birthday I drove to the DMV and turned in my driver’s license. I could still drive this old thing fine—it runs like an ornery top, but it still runs. My reflexes, however, weren’t as good as they once were, so rather than run over a gang of wild turkeys or a bunch of tourists, I opted to give up the ghost.
So here’s Orson. Whoever finds him—Maddie, I hope it’s you—can have him. The title’s in the glove box. My brother, Joe, made me have seat belts installed two decades ago. Enjoy.
Nancy
“The truck would have been yours anyway. Based on her will,” Brandon said.
It seemed like a moot point.
Maddie couldn’t see if anything was behind the truck, thanks to the barricade of boxes. Curious about the contents, she pulled one from the bottom; the tall pile on top of it somersaulted toward her. Not unlike the way the box had careened from the shelf in her grandmother’s closet, only there were more of them.
“What the . . . ?” Brandon stopped futzing inside the cab and rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”
She laughed. Cartons surrounded her on the floor. “I’m fine. They barely grazed me.”
Brandon picked one up. “Lightweight. Must not be packed with canning jars or other heavy stuff.” He stood the boxes on the floor next to the truck’s front wheel. “From now on, don’t go poking through things without me. Okay? It could be dangerous.”
She flashed a smile of thanks.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s see if anything’s behind here. Like maybe the storage cabinet. The boxes can wait until Rafe’s here.”
Once they reached the tailgate, they saw a metal cabinet—it was large, maybe six feet high, four feet wide, and a foot and a half deep. There was just enough space to try to unlock it once they squeezed behind the truck.
Maddie inserted the key into the lock and held her breath again. Then . . .Click. Her eyebrows shot up.
