Baby Kisses

Chapter 22

Chapter 22: The Search Begins

Tooty lay in bed facing Miles. After returning the previous week from a romantic three week honeymoon at his villa in the Languedoc Valley of Southern France, they had fallen into a lovely routine of playing with the children, writing and editing each other's work, and making passionate love.

Tonight, Tooty reread Beatrice's last letter aloud. When she folded the paper and put it back in the envelope, Miles said, "Maybe we're making this more complicated than it is."

"You're probably right."

"There is something I find curious, however."

"What's that?"

"She wrote the word 'pride' twice, capitalizing one and not the other?"

"Well, her writing is kind of scrawled. You know, old people are not always consistent in their handwriting."

"True. But maybe we should read the diary from the beginning and see if anything pops out."

"Okay. I'll get it." Tooty jumped from the bed and hastened to the desk drawer containing the box protecting the diary. Sitting Indian style next to Miles she began reading aloud. After a few minutes she came to these words:

After supper I decided to read to him. I pulled out my favorite book, Pride and Prejudice.

Tooty jerked her head up and looked at Miles with rounded eyes.

He said, "Tooty, maybe we're on to something. Aren't there a number of classical novels that came with the house?"

"Yes! I stored them in a box and put them on the top shelf of the boys' closet. I'd forgotten about them until now." She jumped off the bed and raced to her sons' bedroom. Tiptoeing in, she set a child's stool in front of the closet, stood on it, and reached toward the back of the shelf to pull a cardboard box forward. With a grunt, she lifted the heavy box and carried it back to Miles. Setting it on the floor, her hands shook as she pulled out precious tomes. She called out each title, "Treasure Island, The Time Machine, The Count of Monte Cristo, Little Women..." After pulling out about twenty books, there were only two left and her heart sank. She lifted another one and turned it over. She gasped, "Pride and Prejudice." Jumping back onto the bed she held it out to Miles. "You open it, I'm too nervous."

He lifted the book from her hands and gently opened the hardbound cover. He read the words on the cover page.

A Christmas gift for my precious daughter Annabelle from your loving Mother, in The Year of Our Lord, 1863.

Tooty gasped!

Miles turned to the back of the book. "There's nothing on the back page." He returned to the cover page and began turning pages, one by one. After several, he stopped and pointed to a letter that had been circled with a pen. A few pages later, another letter was circled. Throughout the remainder of the book, letters and sometimes a number had been circled.

Tooty grabbed a pad and pencil and wrote them down as he called them out. After he closed the book she repeated what she'd written:

K T G Y E E 1 1 1 1

Miles grinned. "I think we have a scramblegram."

Tooty giggled. "This is fun. Let's see what words we can make." She handed Miles a pad and pencil.

After a few minutes, he said, "I think I've got it."

"Oh, tell me! Tell me!"

"Get Key."

Tooty looked at the notepad he'd turned toward her.

"Yes, that has to be it. But where is the key and what do the numbers mean?"

"Have you found any keys in drawers or anywhere in the house?"

"Not that I remember."

"You know, a key and numbers can be associated with a safe deposit box."

"But who would have the key?"

They looked at each other and said in unison, "The attorney."

Tooty barely slept. The next morning at precisely nine o'clock she called Beatrice's attorney and introducing herself as Tooty Townsend to the receptionist so as not to confuse them.

The attorney immediately took her call. "Good morning, Mrs. Brightman. Let me offer my congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you. How did you know?"

He chuckled, "I'm a great fan of Maxwell Henry." He cleared his throat. "The um newspaper at the grocery checkout first alerted me. I don't condone those kind of papers, but that's how I found out. How may I help you?"

Tooty laughed. "At least they only called me a bumpkin and not an alien from a distant planet. But, to get back to the reason for my call—in Beatrice's last letter, she said there would be no more correspondence, but did she happen to leave a key to be given to me if I inquired about one?"

"How delightful you've discovered its existence! Yes, I have the key. She told me I was to give it to you in ten years, if you didn't ask for it sooner. It opens a safe deposit box at a Denver bank. I don't know the contents. Would you like me to overnight the key or would you prefer to pick it up?"

* * *

Tooty and Miles entered Bank of the Wild West and walked to the help desk. After Tooty explained who she was and showed her key, the clerk pulled paperwork and asked for her ID. Then she asked Tooty to punch in the password on a keypad. Holding her breath she keyed in 1111. The clerk watched her computer screen and said, "Please follow me." She pressed a buzzer and explained that Tooty was the only one who could enter the safe deposit boxes vault.

Miles smiled encouragingly. "Go find your treasure, honey."

Tooty said, "I'm looking at him."

Inside the vault, the clerk pulled a box about two feet square and set it on a tall table before leaving Tooty alone. She stared at the box, blinking back tears. Slowly, she placed her key in the slot and turned. It clicked. With trembling hands she lifted the lid and gasped. Ever so carefully she reached to remove the carving of Annabelle, Eli, and their five children. The exquisite detail portrayed unmistakable expressions of joy on Annabelle's face, love on Eli's, and the differing personalities of each child. Lovingly, her fingertips traced Annabelle's form and Eli in his wheelchair. Lifting the carving she read the words etched beneath, I would do it all again for the gift of Annabelle.

Tooty stifled a sob and reached for the paper at the bottom of the box. It was the ancestry chart. Across the bottom, Beatrice had written:

Some stories are meant to be told. By whatever means possible, tell their story, Tooty.