Page 9 of The Maid's Secret

The audience laughed, and the hosts waited comfortably, basking in the glow of their witty repartee. As I stood to one side, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mr.Snow. It’s no fun to be laughed at. Still, this is what the Bees do on their show—they say outrageous things, and the crowd laps it up every time.

“Pull it out, sir. Let’s have a look,” Beagle mused as he rubbed his small hands together with glee.

Mr.Snow reached into his breast pocket and removed his pocket watch, a beautiful antique timepiece, pure silver with a crystal face. He detached it from a watch chain that I’d given him for Christmas the year before.

“Ah!” said Brown as he cradled the watch in the palm of his large hand. “Folks, this here is an American-made timepiece crafted by the Waltham Watch Company.”

“Which is good news and bad,” added Beagle as he leaned in for a closer look. “The frame is a replacement, but the watch itself is original.”

“And this specimen is in decent shape, only a few scratches,” said Brown. “However, Waltham was among the first American companies to mass-produce watches.”

“Which means,” said Beagle, “that this one, even in fine condition, is worth only around two hundred dollars.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” said Mr.Snow. “It’s an heirloom to me.”

“Sentimental value, but not a treasure,” Brown pronounced. “Shall we get this man off the stage before he drowns in his own sweat?”

The crowd cackled.

“Next up!” Steve called.

“Here goes nothing,” Speedy said as he bounded up the steps like an adolescent antelope and took a seat on the guest throne. He held out one closed fist, waiting for the Bees to say something.

“What have you got for us, young lad?” asked Brown.

“So my cousin, right?” Speedy began. “He’s like one of those metal detector dudes? He trolls beaches looking for lost gold and crap. Oh crap, I just said ‘crap’! Am I allowed to say ‘crap’ on TV?”

“Bit late to ask,” Brown drawled, and the crowd chuckled.

“So, my cousin,” said Speedy. “He finds this coin, right? And it’s buried deep in the sand. And he freaks out when he digs it up and shows me. And all these girls in bikinis run over, and now they’re all screaming, too, and we’re jumping up and down on the beach, and—”

“What’s at the sharp end of a pencil?” Beagle asked, interrupting.

Speedy was quietly thinking, perhaps for the first time in his life. “The point?” he eventually replied.

“Exactly!” said Beagle. “Now get to yours. We don’t have all day.”

“The point is I’ve got a Roman coin in my hand.” He opened his fist to reveal a round object so tarnished it was hard to make out any features on it until he flipped it over. “Look. There’s one of them emperor dudes.”

He held the blackened coin as the camera zoomed in.

Beagle addressed the crowd. “What do you think, folks? Hidden treasure or hopeless hoax?”

The image of the coin was blown up on a monitor to the side of the stage. The crowd suddenly burst out laughing.

Brown pointed out what was obvious to everyone watching the screen. “That’s no Roman emperor,” he said. “That’s Queen Elizabeth.”

“And see there?” added Beagle. “The date might have been your first clue.”

“Oh. Right. 1980. But that’s, like, vintage,” Speedy said. “It’s gotta be worth something, no?”

“It is,” said Brown, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Most definitely,” agreed Beagle as he crossed his arms. “It’s worth a penny.”

The crowd heaved with mirth as Speedy was escorted off the stage.

“You’re up,” I heard as Steve Ferris-wheeled his arms, prompting me to the stage. My feet were glued to the spot, but I dislodged them and settled myself on the guest throne, legs pressed together, shoebox squarely placed on top. I could hardly breathe as I stared at the two stars—one big, bold, and bright, the other small, dark, and dashing. They twinkled in front of me as their ultra-white smiles caught the glare of the lights.

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