The Law of Finders Keepers by Sheila Turnage

Author:Sheila Turnage
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

By the time we sat down to eat, everything was just the way Harm likes it: Perfect.

Perfect salad, perfect spaghetti, perfect bread. Perfect chitchat, perfect table, perfect candlelight. I draped my sweater over the back of my chair. My relationship with spaghetti is colorful and hard to wash out.

The conversation went fast and safe—school, Grandmother Miss Lacy’s pansies, our search for Upstream Mother. Harm talked about our Always Man letters and photos: “Three no’s, with forty-seven still out.” The reminder kicked me like a mule.

Kat gave me a smile. “Three out of fifty? That’s nothing,” she said. “The odds against making it in Nashville are worse. Don’t give up, Mo. We’ll make it.” She helped herself to more sauce. “Harm, this is delicious.

“You know, Mo, I’d love to sing at the café. Just to keep my voice in tune.” She smiled at me, then turned to Harm. “How about it? We’d be great together. Please?”

Harm went tense as one of Mrs. Little’s taxidermy projects.

Kat frowned. “I thought you’d love the idea, but if you don’t want to sing with me . . .”

“It’s not that,” Harm said. “It’s just that Dale and I have a group. I mean, we’re a duo.”

“On the Verge,” Sal said. “They’re very impressive.”

The room went quiet, but the air felt like static. Kat broke the silence with a conversational curveball. “So, how’s your treasure hunt going?”

Dale didn’t blink. “Good except Gabriel stole our clue.” He looked at Sal and slumped. “I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he whispered, and she reached for his hand.

Still, true is true. I waited for Kat to deny it. She didn’t.

“You mean that Cross over resting, blah-blah-blah?” she said. “Gabriel didn’t steal that. Someone gave it to him. That’s what he told me, anyway.” She went stricken as Dale. “I feel terrible. Let me get it back for you.”

“It’s too late,” I said. “He’s already read it.”

“You can’t unread something even if you want to,” Dale added. “I’ve tried.”

“Let me make it up to you, then. Maybe I could update you from time to time,” she said, and Grandmother Miss Lacy’s eyebrows went sky-high. “No,” she said quickly, “that wouldn’t be right.” She shrugged the idea away. “You’re a very talented chef, Harm Crenshaw. I can’t think of a thing that would improve that dinner.”

“Dessert, maybe?” Harm said, beaming. Miss Lana says everybody looks better in candlelight. True. Harm looked golden. “I’ve made a—”

“Sorry. When you’re in show business, you have to watch your figure. Besides, I’m expecting a call from my agent.”

“At nine o’clock at night?” Sal asked, very soft.

Kat put her napkin on the table. “Let me know what day works for Lana, Mo. For Harm and me to sing, I mean. Harm, can I help you clean up, baby?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” Harm said. “And I’m not singing.”

“Don’t forget your jacket,” Sal called as Grandmother Miss Lacy walked Kat out.

The door closed. I caught a flash of purple at the window, and Kat was gone.

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