Page 16 of Trouble Comes in Threes

She laughed, but then her smile fell. “He told you everything?”

“Not everything, but enough that I understand why he’s scared.” I considered bringing up his idea about me forcing a vision of her future, but decided now wasn’t the time. She needed other information first.

Her lips pressed tight. She was silent for several moments before she said, “Can we not talk about it right now? I just want to enjoy my greasy chicken and track down who to talk to about the jewelry box.”

“Sure,” I said, “but you’re making a doctor’s appointment as soon as you finish eating. Then we’ll start tackling this mystery.”

Neely Kate kept her end of the bargain and got the first available appointment the next Tuesday morning. As soon as she hung up, she grabbed her paper with the homeowners’ names and started searching for the first name on the list.

I took new photos of the box and uploaded one to an internet search engine to see if I could find a similar one. The search proved fruitless, not that I was surprised.

“I think this was hand carved,” I said, examining it again. “Not mass produced. I’m guessing it would mean something to whoever owned it.”

“But why would they bury it?” she asked.

“That seems to be the question,” I said. “Maybe it was a time capsule. They were really into those around the bicentennial in the 1970s.”

“Or maybe they killed someone and buried their heart like in that Edgar Allen Poe story.”

I gave her a blank stare. “Or…maybe it was a teenage girl who broke up with a boy and buried the notes he wrote to her. We might never know. If we find the owners, they might choose to keep it to themselves.”

“Oh my stars and garters!” she exclaimed. “You’re right.”

“It’s a possibility. Do you still want to do this?”

She pursed her lips, considering it, and then let out a long breath. “Yeah. I do.”

“Okay,” I said because I still wanted to pursue this as well. “I’ve considered posting photos to Facebook and asking if anyone knows anything about it, but I’m afraid someone will fraudulently claim it.” I looked up at her. “Which means I think we should stick to talking to previous homeowners, if possible. If we don’t get anywhere with the homeowners, we can try the Facebook route as a last resort.”

“I agree,” she said, beaming. “Because I’ve just found the people who sold the house to the Thatchers.”

“Do we know where they live?”

“No,” she said, “but the wife’s on Facebook. Lauren Abernathy. She works at Little Bo Peep’s Boutique.”

“That’s the kids’ clothes store in the new strip mall out by the nursery,” I said. “We can go out there and check in with Maeve. I need to see if the plants for the Beetham job arrived today, and I want to see if she’s still coming to Mikey’s soccer game.”

“We’ll be there,” Neely Kate said, then sobered. “At least Daisy and I will.”

“Jed’s gonna get used to the idea, Neely Kate. He just needs more time.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” But she didn’t sound totally convinced.

We wrapped up what we were doing, then went to check on a job site before we headed to the boutique.

“I’ve been wanting to check this place out,” Neely Kate said when I pulled into the parking lot. “I hear they have some really cute girls’ clothes.”

Daisy was always dressed to the nines, often wearing sparkles and bows, while I was lucky to get Hope in clothes that matched—as evidenced by this morning’s struggle. Once we walked in, I instantly knew I couldn’t afford this place, even if Hope would be willing to wear ruffled skirts and headbands with bows.

I walked to the counter and smiled, suddenly realizing that I probably didn’t look like I belonged. I had dirt stains on my jeans, and I was still wearing my work boots. Neely Kate hadn’t gotten very dirty this morning and had changed into a pair of cute ankle boots.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for Lauren Abernathy.”

The woman behind the counter looked worried. “I’m Lauren.”

She looked like she’d lost weight since her Facebook profile picture had been taken, and all her recent public posts had been memes about how crappy men were. I was guessing a breakup.

“Hi, Lauren. I’m Rose Gardner, and this is Neely Kate Carlisle.”

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