The Treasure Man

by Pamela Browning

  “Is that what Aaron said? That it was a gift?” Suzette asked. She sounded puzzled.

  “I haven’t heard about this,” interjected Tara. “What happened?”

  Jill answered, and Chloe picked up a growing defensiveness in her attitude. “Hank told Aaron he could have the surfboard, and after he tried it out, he didn’t like it. He decided to pawn it, but by then Hank was mad at him about something and reported it stolen.”

  “Oh, wow,” Tara said in shocked amazement. “What a bummer.”

  “Especially after what happened before,” Suzette said knowingly. “I can’t believe Aaron gets in these situations.”

  What situations? Chloe wondered. She sat very still, waiting to hear Jill’s reaction.

  “Aaron was in the wrong place at the wrong time when that happened.”

  “When what happened?” This from Tara.

  “Oh, you don’t really want to know,” Suzette said airily.

  “Just something he took the rap for at school,” Jill told her. “The principal had it in for him.”

  “That’s too bad,” Tara replied. A long silence ensued, and then Tara spoke. “Suzette, would you like a lemonade?”

  “No, I’d better go. Mom and I are going out to buy food for the party. I’m glad you’ll both be there.” She started down the porch steps.

  “’Bye. Want us to bring anything?”

  “Thanks, but my mom’s doing it all. Tell Greg not to forget his guitar.”

  “Will do.”

  Suzette hurried away, and Tara spoke after a long while. “Um, Jill. This thing about Aaron and the surfboard. He’s not really in trouble, is he?”

  Jill heaved a giant sigh. “I hope not. We had a big fight about it. I’m like, why don’t you talk to Hank and smooth things over? Hank’s a nice guy, all the kids like him, and maybe there’s just a misunderstanding between him and Aaron. He got furious, Aaron did. He said I don’t trust him or have faith in him, and I told him that’s not true. We almost broke up.” Jill’s voice was quavering.

  “Right before the big party?”

  “Uh-huh. It’ll be awkward, being there with him. Everyone is talking, and I definitely don’t want my parents to hear about it.”

  “You said your mom doesn’t like him, anyway.”

  “Yeah.”

  Tara spoke next. “Well, Jill, something tells me this isn’t a problem we can solve, so we better get back to work. We’ve still got that big wardrobe to clean in Sandpiper.”

  The two of them came back inside and passed Chloe’s workshop without comment. Chloe, however, couldn’t get down to business as easily as the girls could. She mulled over the conversation she had heard and decided to discuss with Tara what she’d overheard.

  She waited until after Tara had spent the afternoon on the beach, gone to her room and showered. When Tara appeared downstairs, Chloe was waiting for her in the kitchen with a plate of fresh-baked cookies.

  “I knew I smelled something scrumptious,” Tara said, swooping in to grab one.

  “I’m through working for the day. Want to sit out on the porch?”

  “Sure,” Tara said. “Front or back?”

  “Your choice.”

  “Back. Is it okay if Butch goes out?”

  “Of course.”

  Chloe poured a glass of milk for each of them, plus a dollop in a saucer for the cat, and joined Tara on the porch. Tara was on the swing, gently pushing it back and forth with one bare foot, the plate of cookies balanced on the cushion beside her.

  Ben was working on the shrubbery nearby; he had planted ti plants around the garbage can enclosure earlier and was now trimming the hibiscus hedge. A few curious gulls flew over, their cries muffled by the clamor of the trimmer. After finishing his milk, Butch switched his tail, crouched and pounced on a lizard, which easily escaped.

  “All ready for the party tonight?” Chloe asked conversationally.

  “Now that you’ve said I can drive the car, yes,” Tara replied. Chloe had given her permission only that morning. Ben had raised his eyebrows at the time; he’d been rooting around in the closets in the annex hallway, looking for gardening tools. He probably didn’t approve of her letting Tara take the car tonight, but, as she reminded herself, it wasn’t his decision.

  “The rules are, you don’t give anyone else a ride and you drive straight home afterward.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Okay.” She said it good-naturedly as she helped herself to another cookie.

  Chloe decided that there was no tactful way to broach the subject of Aaron and the surfboard. The best thing to do was to ask bluntly, so that was what she did.

  “Tara,” she said, “I couldn’t help but overhear what you girls were talking about earlier. This thing about Aaron—what do you make of it?”

  “I believe Jill when she says he was unfairly accused.”

  “He was in trouble before at school. Did you ever find out what that was about?”

  “Somebody slashed the tires on the principal’s car. It might have been Aaron.”

  “That’s a fairly serious offense, Tara.”

  “He may not have done it,” she said defensively.

  “Maybe not,” agreed Chloe.

  Tara kept rocking the swing and it was clear that she wasn’t going to venture anything more on the subject.

  Chloe took the plunge. “Tara, dear, I’m concerned about something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the shoe box of coins missing from under Ben’s bed.” Chloe kept her gaze level.

  Tara stopped her swinging. Out on the ocean, the whine of a Jet Ski blended with the roar of the hedge trimmer, which was growing closer as Ben moved toward the back of the house.

  “You think I took them?”

  This was a tough one. “No, I don’t,” Chloe said honestly. “But they’re gone. Do you know anything about it?”

  Two bright spots of color had appeared on Tara’s cheeks. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

  “Tara, I’m just asking.” Around the corner of the house, the racket of the hedge trimmer ceased.

  Tara jumped off the swing and glared at her. Chloe grabbed the plate of cookies before it went flying.

  “I thought you were different, Chloe. Everyone else—my parents, teachers, practically every adult in Farish, Texas—suspects me of everything that happens. I made a couple of mistakes, okay? But since that shoplifting incident in Austin, I haven’t done anything illegal. And you still don’t trust me.”

  By this time, Chloe was on her feet. “I wouldn’t be letting you take the Volvo tonight if I didn’t,” she answered, her anger growing.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your mind,” Tara said with bitterness. “Since you’ve figured out that I’m a thief and all.”

  “I never said that, Tara. Kids cover up for other kids. I’m speaking from firsthand experience.”

  “You’re a solid citizen now. You reformed. I have, too.”

  Ben sauntered around the side of the house, his brow knitted with concern. Tara heard his footsteps and whirled to face him. “How about you, Ben? Do you think I took the shoe box with the coins?” Tara said.

  “I hope not,” Ben replied quietly but his jaw was square and tense.

  Tara’s eyes sparked with anger. “I don’t believe this.” Her gaze darted from Chloe to Ben and back again. She started toward the kitchen door. “I’ve listened to enough. You can both go to hell for all I care.” The door slammed in her wake, and Chloe and Ben were left staring at each other.

  Chloe sank onto her chair, feeling totally drained. For the first time, she had an appreciation for the distress that Naomi must feel when she and Tara argued.

  Ben tossed the hedge trimmer down and came onto the porch, where he sat down beside Chloe. “That didn’t go too well,” he said wryly.

  Chloe only looked at him and held out the plate of cookies in case he wanted one, but he shook his head.

  Ben was silent for a long while
. “Let’s talk about what we should do now,” he said.

  Before Chloe could frame an answer, the door opened and Tara barged outside dressed in the outfit she planned to wear to Suzette’s party. “I’m out of here. I’m going to Suzette’s house early.” She headed for the Volvo, which was parked in its usual spot beside Ben’s Jeep.

  “Tara—”

  Tara kept walking. “Are you going to tell me I can’t take the car now?”

  “I’ve already given my permission,” Chloe said with as much patience as she could muster. “Drive carefully, and I hope you have my cell phone.” Beside her, Ben favored her with an incredulous glance.

  Tara held up Chloe’s cell phone before getting into the car and slamming the door. She peeled off in reverse.

  When the Volvo was out of sight, Ben stood up abruptly. “I can’t believe you let her take the car,” he exploded.

  Chloe, her emotions still in a turmoil over how her talk with Tara had failed so utterly, turned blank eyes upon him. “What?”

  “You let her take the car.”

  “I’d promised her earlier.”

  “Tara insulted both of us and got away with it.”

  “Ben. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell Tara she’s grounded. Make it clear that she hurt your feelings. Putting up with that sort of behavior only encourages more of the same.” He spoke emphatically.

  “I’m not accustomed to disciplining teenagers.” All sorts of issues seemed to be surfacing here: Ben’s growing annoyance over the past week, Tara’s lack of respect, her own inability to deal with things.

  “With Ashley, I always—” Ben blurted the words, was unable to continue.

  “With Ashley, you were the perfect father,” Chloe said before she thought.

  Ben’s face went pale as Chloe realized how cutting and cruel her words must have seemed to him. “In the end, I wasn’t, was I?” he said softly.

  Sick at heart, she ran after him as he headed down the steps. “Ben, I didn’t mean that,” she cried. If she could have swallowed her words, she would have. He kept walking, eyes focused straight ahead.

  “Oh, you knew what you were saying,” he retorted bitterly.

  “I didn’t, I swear! Ben, I’m so sorry.” Someday, she would learn to put her mind in gear before her mouth.

  For an answer, Ben wheeled and started walking down the slope toward his apartment. Stunned, Chloe watched him go.

  The heat, building all day, had suddenly become oppressive. Clouds in the west, formerly wisps of white, had merged into a dark mass. Long curtains of rain in the distance swept in her direction, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the air had freshened, foretelling the usual afternoon thunderstorm.

  Before she could react to the change in the weather, Ben reappeared.

  “Couldn’t we discuss this?” she asked.

  He only glowered at her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out,” he said. He was halfway to his Jeep and still wearing his work clothes, which was unusual. Always, in the past, he’d showered and changed before he went out in the evenings.

  “Ben!” she called in alarm. She feared for his safety as he rammed the Jeep into gear and roared down the driveway.

  Chloe stared after him. Maybe it was better that he had left the inn. Maybe he’d cool off and be ready to accept her apology when she offered it.

  She had no doubt that she owed him one. What she’d said was unforgivable. She’d hit him where he was most vulnerable—his sense of responsibility for the death of his daughter.

  So now she had two things to worry about: Tara’s rushing off to the party in anger, and Ben headed somewhere, anywhere, to get away from her.

  Tears stung her eyes as she contemplated her empty evening. Blinking them away, she wandered from the kitchen into Ben’s apartment, wishing he were there. With Tara gone, they could have made love. Maybe sat out on the patio after dark, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

  She would never know why she acted on the impulse to open the kitchen cabinet where she’d seen the bottle of Scotch only days ago. It was gone, and what if Ben had taken it with him? He’d been carrying something, which hadn’t seemed important at the time. What if Ben decided to go on a drinking binge, and all because of her?

  CHLOE FOUND IT IMPOSSIBLE to concentrate on anything. She tried working, lost patience with the intricacies of fitting sea glass onto a silver disc, threw one piece down in disgust. Readjusted her gooseneck lamp to shed more light on her work surface, found it didn’t help. She halfheartedly started reading her old diary, hoping it would make her feel better.

  Dear Trees, Gold is gone. Gone forever from my life. How this could happen, I don’t know. He is the most special person I have ever met. The only one I dream about.

  What’s even worse is that no one ever knew I loved him, not even him. I never let on to Wind or Ocean. They would be shocked! And to tell them now wouldn’t make any sense. I don’t want their pity or their sympathy or advice. I just want Gold!

  Mrs. Mixon was right. Gold left for good, but no one knows where he went. He came back to the inn one night when Ocean, Wind and I had gone to a band concert in Vero. He took all his stuff out of his room, leaving it bare and sad-looking, except for that plaid shirt on his chair. He must have forgotten it.

  I stole it. Yep, went right in and yanked it off the chair, and now I am wearing it. Ocean has gone to spend the night with her friend Sierra and I said I didn’t care to go. I wanted to cry and write in my diary and think about Gold. I didn’t want Ocean to know that I was wearing his shirt. I’ll never wash it. I’ll keep it forever.

  I love him so much. I love him so much. I love him so much.

  I’m going back to Farish in a few weeks. I guess I won’t be writing in here anymore, cuz I won’t have anything good to tell.

  Love,

  Fire (Chloe D. Timberlake)

  Well, so much for feeling better. If anything, Chloe’s diary entry made her even more aware of the patterns of loss in her life. As for the plaid shirt, she had slept in it for ages. Eventually, she’d forgotten all about it until she came home from college one spring break to find her father using it as a rag to polish his car. By that time, the shirt hadn’t mattered.

  In her estimation now, she’d been a silly teenager with less common sense than Tara. Which reminded her that she’d better call her niece on the cell phone. But Tara didn’t answer. After repeated tries to reach her, Chloe clicked on the radio in her workshop so she could hear the weather reports, went out on the front porch, sank onto one of the rocking chairs and listened to the crash of waves on the sand.

  Maybe she’d been better off in Farish, Texas, where day-to-day life had been predictable. How could she create her designs, find innovative ways to meld sea glass and precious metals, get them ready for the Palm Beach winter season, with all this turmoil going on around her? Had she really expected to get involved with people who have major problems going on in their lives? The answer was a resounding no, yet here she was, stuck in a situation of which she wanted no part whatsoever.

  Chloe may have sat there for an hour or more before she started worrying about Ben. If she was responsible for his starting to drink again, she’d never forgive herself. Inside her head, a little voice that sounded a lot like Naomi told her, You’re not responsible if the guy falls off the wagon. On the other hand, if not for her thoughtless remark, Ben might be beside her here on the porch.

  In the kitchen, the phone rang, startling her out of her self-recrimination. She ran to answer it, hoping it was Tara or Ben.

  “Chloe?” Tara’s voice was drowned out by static, and almost drowned out by party sounds in the background.

  “Tara,” Chloe said in relief. “I’m glad you called.”

  “I wanted to tell you—” Tara broke off, but when she spoke again, she was easier to understand.

  “Tell me what?” Chloe prompted. “Are you having a problem? Is everything ok
ay?”

  “I’m leaving the party. Jill didn’t show up, and Aaron…”

  Chloe didn’t hear the tail end of the sentence. “What about him?” she demanded.

  “I can’t get into it now, but I’m leaving in a few minutes for Jill’s house. Her parents are out tonight, and we’ll be able to talk.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Tara,” Chloe said. “There’s a storm on the way.”

  “Jill’s house is only a mile or so down the road.” Tara interrupted their conversation to speak in an aside to someone at the party.

  “Is Greg there? Could he go with you?”

  “The wedding lasted longer than expected, and an accident on the turnpike held them up. I’ll be fine, Chloe.”

  She had a sudden inspiration. “Hey, how about if you stop by and I’ll go with you.”

  “I want to talk with Jill alone. I’ll be home after I leave her house. ’Bye, Chloe.”

  Kids! Chloe thought as she clicked off the phone. Why was it so urgent to talk to Jill tonight? Why hadn’t Jill attended the party that both of them had been eagerly anticipating for a week or more?

  For the next hour, Chloe paced the floor. She kept consulting her watch and wondering how long it would take Tara to drive to Jill’s house, engage in a conversation and return home. Perhaps no longer than an hour.

  She’d almost forgotten that the radio was on in her workshop until she heard the strident weather bulletin.

  “The United States Weather Service issued an alert at nine-thirty p.m. Eastern Daylight Time,” said the tinny voice of the automated announcement. “A severe squall is approaching the communities of Sanluca, Wabasso and Vero Beach from the southwest and traveling north-northeast. It is accompanied by high wind gusts and wind-driven rain. The storm is proceeding at approximately twelve miles per hour, and all those in its path are urged to protect themselves by taking cover. Interested parties should—”

  Chloe hurried to the front porch. The waves had increased in height and strength since she’d come inside. The wind was whipping around the turret and blowing sand up from the beach. Tara shouldn’t be driving in this weather.

  She called Tara on the cell phone, but there was no answer. She attempted to reach Jill in the hope that Jill might be able to tell her if Tara was safe at her house or had left. All she heard was an answering-machine message.