Page 69 of Writing On The Wall

This man is killing me.

“I can’t believe your Gran kept all this stuff hidden in here,” he remarks from inside, thankfully stopping me from turning into a pile of goo. I join him in the small room, and there’s an air of wonder as we inspect the shelves. For the second time, I take in all the trinkets on display.

“What’s this?” Ethan asks, sliding a box out from the corner.

I shrug. I hadn’t noticed it the last time we were here. He places it in the middle of the small room, and I slowly lift the floral-print lid.

My breath catches as I take in what’s nestled inside.

“No way!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a music box. My Gran’s been looking for it.”

“It looks…fancy.” Ethan frowns.

“It’s called thePièce À Oiseau Chantant. It means ‘piece with a singing bird,’ ” I explain. I sink to my knees as I tell Ethan the story of how Gran’s Swiss grandmother gifted her with the music box on her eighth birthday. Ethan’s brow furrows before he pulls out his phone. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, bringing a slow smile to my lips as I lift the lid reverently and wind it up. An enchanting melody fills the air, and the tiny mechanical bird nestled in intricate foliage comes to life, flapping and twirling its wings to the music.

“Uh…Marsh.” Ethan stares at his screen, nodding. “Do you know how much that thing is worth?”

I shrug a shoulder, making an I-dunno face.

“Somewhere in the ballpark of sixty-four-thousand dollars.”

“Shut the front door!” I gasp, my hand flying to cover my mouth as my eyes widen. Suddenly, it all makes sense, especially the part where Ross has been so eager to get his hands on it. My eyes fall back to the music box playing the same tune I remember from all those years ago.

“No wonder Ross is looking for it,” I tell him and hastily nestle the music box back into its hiding place. Then I rush out of the closet with Ethan right behind me. “Can you help me push the wardrobe?”

“Ivy, hang on. What’s happening right now?”

“I have to keep the closet hidden in case Ross comes back to look for the music box. I can’t let him find it.”

Ethan is frozen in place while his mind apparently pieces things together, unintentionally leaving me to push the wardrobe alone. My back is against its side while I attempt to scoot the monstrous thing back in place. It goes nowhere. “Uh, a little help here?”

“Crap. Sorry. You shouldn’t be doing this anyway.”

“It’s fine.” I grunt. “I got my stitches out today, and I’m mostly healed up.”

He perks up and grabs my arm to stop me. “Who took them out? Was it that same creep from the ER?”

“It was a nurse,” I say, rolling my eyes and stifling a smile. “A female nurse.”

“Oh, okay,” he mutters quietly before sliding the wardrobe into place with minimal effort. “You gonna tell your Gran you found the music box?”

“I think I want to surprise her with it when I’m done fixing up the house. But I do owe her a visit.Maybe I can sniff out whether she had any clue what Pop was up to when he hid it back here.”

“You want me to come with?”

There’s so much hope swelling in his eyes as I watch him struggle to appear casual. Eventually, he’ll get bored of me, and he won’t look so dejected each time I have to put more distance between us.

That distance doesn’t have to be there.

Shut it, you. My subconscious clearly has no problem drowning in drama.

“Thanks,” I give him a soft smile, sliding my denim jacket on. “But I should go alone.”

“Right,” he says, pressing his lips into a fake smile.

---