Page 7 of Finders Keepers
Mom stands and gives me a good morning hug while continuing to look at Quentin affectionately, and it’s like we’ve somehow time-traveled back to the mid-aughts. “You two andyour inside jokes. Such silly gooses. I’ll just leave you to catch up while I go make some breakfast.”
Before I can protest, she’s left the room.
“Hope you don’t mind me hanging out with Patti while I waited for you to come down,” he says. His eyes drift to where Mom is still visible through the doorway from where he’s sitting, and a fond smile spreads across his face. “What a ray of sunshine that woman is. She had me seated with banana bread and coffee in ten seconds flat.”
Seriously? There was only one slice left, and she gave it tohim? The person who ghosted me for nearly two decades and then refused to even explain himself or apologize beyond a half-hearted “sorry”? I know my mom doesn’t know the full story of what happened between us, or anything about our conversation last night, but come on! I fold my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Quentin?”
My attempt at boredom comes out instead as hostility. Fine with me. He blinks a few times like I’ve surprised him again. “To talk. I just…wanted to talk to you.”
Oh,nowhe has something to say. “Well, mission accomplished. A number of words have left your mouth and reached my ears. You can go now. Goodbye!”
“Nina…” He stands and makes his way over to me. Seeing him in a well-lit room, this close up, is a real mindfuck. They may not have liked each other much, but Mr. and Dr. Bell made a very handsome couple. So it shouldn’t be a shock that Quentin’s become rather appealing himself. But it’s still annoying. His gaze travels over my face, as if he’s also observing my features, before settling back on my eyes. Am I going to get my apology now? A real one? I guess I did sort of ambush him last night. Maybe now that he’s had time to find the right words…
He reaches up and takes one of my curls between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it down and releasing it into a bounce—an old playful gesture that feels more intimate now than antagonistic. The slight tug at my scalp sends a tingle down my spine. “I can’t go yet,” he says softly, seriously, before he succumbs to the amusement lurking in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Your mom promised me pancakes.”
I attempt to shove him away, but it’s too weak, reluctant. He barely moves an inch. “Oh, fuck off.”
“Language!” Mom scolds from the kitchen.
“Sorry!” I call back before refocusing on Quentin. “I don’t want to play with you,” I tell him in an angry whisper that immediately shrinks me into an elementary school version of myself. It’s surprising that, when I do a surreptitious glance down, I’m still wearing my floral sundress and not ill-fitting black corduroy overalls with a Tweety Bird T-shirt underneath.
He presses his lips together and nods as he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a worn, folded piece of paper—the familiar looping cursive on the outside making my heartbeat accelerate before he even opens it and holds it up in front of my face.
The map we made that last summer as we set out to find Julius James Fountain’s legendary hidden treasure. The thing that ultimately destroyed our friendship.
“Well, that’s disappointing, Neen. Because I would really like to play with you.”
Forms to be Filled out for Each Interview
FORM A
MID-ATLANTIC INDUSTRY
Circumstances of Interview
STATE .............. Maryland
NAME OF WORKER .. Albert Aaron
ADDRESS ........... Sprangbur Estate, Catoctin, Maryland
DATE ............... June 9, 1937
SUBJECT ........... Life and business of Julius J. Fountain
Date and time of interview
June 9, 1937, morning
Place of interview
Sprangbur Estate
