Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt mouth. I’m still in the buried treasure story.

Check out the other tales here.

Setting the jewelry on the wood countertop next to the sink, I went to fetch the jar of jewelry cleaner. This was exciting. I loved the discovery of these items and how they looked when they weren’t covered in dirt and grime. 

When I returned, the rolls were in the oven and grandma was holding the gold chain. “This one I would wear to church.”

“It did clean up nicely like the other stuff I found.” I leaned in and inspected the color of the gold. “Looks like 18 carat to me.”

“Me too.” Grandma held it up to herself. “I quite like it.”

“I’d be glad for you to have it.”

“We should first look for the real owner’s family. They may want their things back.”

The smell of the cinnamon rolls baking made my mouth water. “Man, those smell great. I forgot to eat breakfast.”

Grandma laughed. “I bet you knew I’d be baking today. For the social time in the fellowship hall tomorrow between Sunday school and church.”

“Well, I confess, I was hopeful. But I also knew if you weren’t that you’d still have something to feed me.” I winked. “That’s the real reason I came today. Not the jewelry.”

“You can’t fool this old lady, Miss Heather. You can’t trick me. The rolls will be done soon and I predict your grandfather will also be lured into making an appearance when he smells them.”

“Did someone take my name in vain?” Granddad said as he walked into the kitchen. He came over and gave me a hug from the side. “Did you find more gold in my yard?”

“A couple more pieces. I’m thinking about renting a metal detector in case there’s anything I missed. I think the matching ruby earring should be out there, at a minimum.”

“Old Joe down the street has one. He likes to stroll in fields and on vacation at the beach to see what he can find. I’ll ask him if we can use it.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt button. I’m working on my buried treasure story.

Check out the other tales here.

“Something I haven’t seen since middle school.” He snickered. “Two girls going at each other. Hair pulling and all.” He shook his head. “Craziness.”

“Oh Lord. Not really? A fight?” I let out a deep sigh. “She’s lost her mind. Unbelievable.”

“Pretty sure she’s got an arrest coming. Mel doesn’t put up with nonsense in his trattoria. Besides, it’s not really the way to land a husband, is it? If Annette really wanted to marry Levi she just blew that out of the water—if she had any chance at all. I mean the guy is all about the women. He just likes the female sex. He’s got a lot of women friends and a jealous lover is a complete turn off for any guy, much less one with a penchant for harmless flirtations.”

This was the most words I’d ever heard Marty string together at one time. “I agree. Levi has always been one to love the ladies. If he ever does settle down, it’ll have to be someone who has confidence in their own appeal and no insecurity when it comes to his ability to be faithful. I doubt such a person exists.”

“To be fair, I always thought you’d be the ideal mate for him. You’re steady and confident. And you can make him behave himself better than anyone.”

I held my hand up like a crossing guard. “God forbid. Button your lip.”

“Why not? He’s attractive, you’re attractive. What’s the downside?”

“Ha. I know way too much about him and have seen him at his absolute worst. There are things he did as a kid that I may never be able to get past.”

“Ahh.  So you have thought about it?”

“Absolutely not. No.” I pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s over there. I’m going to get in it and forget we ever had this conversation.”

He laughed and turned the other way. “I’m over there. See you Tuesday for the next match.”

I stepped off the curb just in time to leap back as two police cruisers sped into the parking lot, lights and sirens blazing. Oh Annette. What have you done?

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt gentle. I am working on my buried treasure story.

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The other items I found were a gaudy ring with a huge green stone surrounded by smaller white ones and one earring that was pretty nice, but I didn’t see the mate. I also had more pieces of the box.

I borrowed a piece of old cloth from my grandmother to cover the hole as I planned to look some more the next day and then took my leave with the treasures in her safekeeping. She said she’d be cleaning them overnight.

After my shower, I met with the Sherlock Homies at trivia night. I was ready to compete even if it was an odd evening for it. We normally met on Tuesday nights, but this week was a special tournament for the anniversary of the opening of the restaurant.

 I was glad to see Annette was there. I figured she might still be mad at me but she patted the open seat between her and Brandon. “Come sit by me.”

I took the chair across from the other members of our team, Jason and Marty. “Hey guys. Ready to smash these other suckers?”

Jason laughed. “If you say other suckers, are you also calling us suckers?”

“Of course. We’ve been suckers on occasion. Everyone on Earth has.” I pulled a menu toward me as a gentle breeze from the air conditioner tickled my neck. “Are we splitting a pizza or every man for himself today?”

“I was leaning toward manicotti myself,” Brandon said. “It smells so good and it’s the special of the day.”

“Yeah. That sounds good,” Jason said.

“I’ll spilt a pizza with you, Heather,” Marty said. “I know you like hot peppers so maybe leave those off my part?”

“Cool. No problem.”

The other tables filled up pretty fast and soon after we ordered, we were in the midst of a heated competition. Annette hadn’t said much to me but I didn’t sense any animosity either. After all, she asked me to sit with her so she must not be upset.  I wanted to ask her if she was invited to the barbecue but was afraid if she hadn’t been, she’d go into orbit. So I let it ride.

When the waitress came with our food, Annette finally said, “Levi is having a barbecue tomorrow. Should be fun. I’ll get to meet his mom. I’m so excited. I hope she likes me. That’s so important. I’m very nervous. Do you think she will like me?”

The girl hadn’t taken a breath. Yikes. What should I say?

Time for Tuesday Tales. This week, the writers are writing to the word prompt quick. I am working on my buried treasure story.

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“Good point. I’ll take a picture and use an app to see if I can find out anything.” I’d almost finished my cake and set my fork down to take the photo. I wasn’t expecting much but it was a great idea to try to figure out the time frame when it was made. “Do silver hallmarks usually have the date it was made?”

“I don’t think the United States has a year rule about hallmarks. I think it’s just the percentage of silver and the makers mark. I know some companies like Tiffany’s and Reed and Barton date theirs. Maybe Gorham as well. I don’t see a date on this though. Just the 925 and sterling is on this one. And the makers mark is hard to read as it appears the item has been smushed a bit. There’s a small dent making it difficult to decipher.”

“Maybe I can take it to a jewelry repair place and see if they can straighten it out or figure out who might have made it.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you go out to the shed and get your grandfather’s small digger? It’s small enough that you wouldn’t damage anything else that might be there like you would with a full-size shovel.”

“You’re right.  I can’t wait to get back to digging, but I’ll make a quick trip to the workshop and get it. Any idea where it is?”

“Lord, no, honey, that man could’ve laid it anywhere. He’s gone to the bank but will be back soon. You could wait and ask him.” Grandma wiped her face with her apron.

“No way, Grams. I’m too impatient for that.” I laughed, wiped my mouth with my napkin and stood. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Grandma grabbed my plate and fork to take to the sink before I could do it. This was par for the course. Leave a glass sitting at her house unattended and it would be scooped up and washed in nanosecond.

To my surprise, I found the trowel sitting right by the vise at the end of one of the counters in Granddad’s workshop and was soon back under the tree digging away.

The next thing I uncovered was a bit more of the broken wood. This part wasn’t elaborately carved. It might have been part of the bottom. It was in bad shape. Deteriorated and old. “I wish I could date this wood, but there’s no way to tell.”

“Who are you talking to while you sit in the dirt like you’re six again?”

I looked up to see Levi staring down at me with a huge grin on his face.

Today, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt silvery. This is my new story set in the southern USA. The one I started sharing last week.

Check out the other tales here.

Using my fingers, I dug around and hit something hard and square. Or rectangular maybe?

I cleared a little more dirt to find a piece of wood. Pulling it out, I wiped the grime off it and flipped it over. It was a light color, smooth on one side and carved on the other. It didn’t look big enough really to do much with. Perhaps it wasn’t a complete piece of whatever it was.

As I inspected it, I realized one end was jagged so it must’ve been longer at one time.

“Let’s see if there’s anything else here.” I dug around a bit more and found another piece of the same kind of wood. The carving was interesting and ornate. How it got under the tree at my grandparents’ home was a mystery. I’d have to ask her what it was if she even knew. What if it had been there for years? It sure looked like it had been buried a while. But such a pretty thing to bury? How odd.

I found a few more pieces of the wood.  I couldn’t tell if it was broken when it was buried or if it was disintegrating in the soil. I used the stick to poke around some more. Something sparkled as one of the clouds overhead scudded away from the sun and some rays penetrated through the leaves. “What have we here?” I asked the world at large in the voice of a Bond villain.

I broke a nail trying to grab hold of the item. It was almost like it was suctioned to the earth around it. It’s a good thing I’m not one to go for a professional manicure or nail veneers. It was just a bend to the quick. I’d survive.

Eventually I was able to get a grip on the shiny object enough to pull it out of the soil. I scrubbed it across the thigh of my jeans before inspecting it.

A silvery colored charm of some sort. It reminded me of the lavalieres that some of the frat brothers used to give their girlfriends in college. It took me a minute to remember my Greek alphabet and recognize the letters. Sigma Alpha Epsilon. Something about that fraternity sounded familiar. Other than the fact I knew it existed. Like it had been on the news. For something not good.

“Wonder what else is down here?”