Treasure in Exile by S.W. Hubbard

Author:S.W. Hubbard [Hubbard, S.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S.W. Hubbard
Published: 2018-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

DONNA AND I SPEND OUR last hour of work talking about the possibility of a Tate heir.

“If Vareena has a son, wouldn’t all this go to him?” Donna pauses with a painted wooden train in her hand. “Unless she fought with him and cut him out of her will.”

“He can’t still be alive. None of the articles I read even mentioned him.” I open the dresser drawers, but they’re empty. “And there’s no bedroom with a young man’s possessions. He must’ve died as a baby. Or maybe she had a miscarriage. She fixed up the room when she found out she was pregnant and then....”

Donna’s face crumples. “Stop! That’s too sad. First her husband, then the baby.”

I can see I’m upsetting my new assistant, so I keep quiet, but my mind continues to churn with theories. The miscarriage idea would explain why the articles don’t mention a child, but the nursery is definitely decorated for a boy. There were no sonograms in the 1940s, and parents of that era didn’t fight gender stereotypes by giving trains to girls. Was Vareena simply convinced she’d produce a male heir? Or had a son actually been born?

At five-thirty, Donna and I call it a day. I’m still pondering the notion of a Tate heir. The best way to satisfy my curiosity is to do the good deed I’ve been putting off—return the library books I found downstairs and take the ledger to the local history room. I can stop there on the way home tonight.

The library books are still in my tote bag. But the ledger? I shut my eyes trying to remember where I put it. The last time I saw it was in the van.

Crap! That’s been lost too.

But wait. The picture is starting to fill in with more details. The ledger was on the front console the last time I saw it in the van. But it wasn’t there on the trip to Newark.

Now I remember! Ty told me to clean out the van so Donna wouldn’t toss it. I took the ledger out and put it...where?

I picture the stiff brown leather and the crumbling gold embossing of Accounts. I see it on top of something white. My dryer! I dumped a load of stuff on top of the dryer when I came into my house through the laundry room the night before the Armentrout sale.

So I can’t stop at the library on my way home. I’ll have to go tomorrow.

Thinking about the van makes me wonder if Sean had any success questioning Crawford. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t even tried to text him.

When I pull out my phone, I see I’ve missed a text from him.

Following a lead on the van. Home late. Talk when I see you.

I feel a birthday-gift surge of excitement. Of course, I’m dying to call him right now for details. But “talk when I see you” means “I’m busy and it’s complicated so wait.”

So I drive home and wait.

After walking Ethel, I spend an hour emailing photos of Tate mansion antiques to dealers whom I think might be interested.

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