A deep voice promptly answered. "Hello, Mrs. Williams. My name is Paul Fisher. I understand you have inherited a collection of jewelry from your aunt. I wasn't even aware that Gert had passed on. Please accept my condolences."

"You knew Gert?" I was amazed.

"Oh, yes. I only met her once, but we've talked several times on the phone. I've been trying to buy back those pieces ever since Lonnie died. It's the only complete set of my work. Name your price."

"Mr. Fisher, I know of at least two more pieces you designed right here in Tishomingo. Two different women each own a piece exactly like these," I said.

"Yes, they do. There are thirty-seven pieces in all, and I made two of each design. But Gert had the only complete set"

"Why did Gert have them all and these other women have one each?"

"Because Lonnie had two pieces done each time he came in. I didn't ask questions. I was here to design and sell jewelry."

"That rat!" I changed my mind about Gert.

"Could be. I didn't ask what he did with the two pieces when he walked out of here. I just knew that after Lonnie died, Gert came here toting a wooden box with all that jewelry and asked me what it was worth. I made her a generous offer, but she laughed at me. Every year I beg, and every year she tells me the same thing."

"Which is?"

"Verbatim?"

"That would be nice."

"'I'll keep these until I die. The world is going to the devil in a handbasket. These will keep me and my family from starving.' So, are you selling?"

"Not today, but if I decide to, I won't sell to anyone else. You've got my word"

"If it's as good as Gert's word, then that's all I need. Call me when you get ready to give them up"

A cuckoo clock in the living room clicked six times, and Billy Lee knocked on the door at the same time I hung up the telephone. When I opened it, he was standing there with a container of food.

"Suppertime," he said.

"Have you eaten?"

Crimson flooded his cheeks. "No, me and Gert always ate together."

"Then bring it in. I've got sweet tea in the fridge."

"Gert and I ate in the kitchen on the bar. Is that all right with you?" He followed me through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen.

"How did Gert stand you? You're too nice to get along with her."

He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. "I'm not always nice. I speak my opinion. I just didn't want to offend you on your first day here."

"I'm not going to be nice all the time, and I don't want you to be. I'd rather have honest than nice. So we'll always speak our minds. Deal?" I stuck out my right hand.

"Deal." He set the food on the counter and shook.

He opened the plastic containers, and I popped ice out of those old aluminum trays that have a handle on top, filled two glasses, and added tea. The aroma of barbecue and baked beans filled the kitchen, and my mouth began to water. He opened cabinet doors and removed two plates, took out silverware from a drawer, and pulled the paper-napkin holder over to the middle of the breakfast bar.

"Dig in," he said.

The ribs had just the right blend of smoke and sauce. The baked beans had been slow-simmered until they were thick, and the biscuits were light and fluffy.

"Tell me something," I said between bites.

"Long, slow cooking over a low flame"

"No, not about supper. This is better than a five-star restaurant's food, and you ought to run a barbecue joint. But that's not what I wanted to know. Do you know much about the relationship between Uncle Lonnie and Aunt Gert?"

He shook his head. "I was off at college when Lonnie died. I didn't know Gert really well until after that. She didn't talk much about him. Matter of fact, the only time we talked about Lonnie was a couple of years ago. I was helping her with some plumbing and noticed the padlock on that door up there."

"What did she say?"

"She said that what was in the past was best left there and that talking about it was like stirring a fresh cow pile with a wooden spoon. Didn't accomplish a thing, and only made the stink and the flies worse and the spoon useless for anything else. Then we came downstairs and had a beer and talked about the new president. His inauguration was on television."

"You remember exactly what you talked about?" I asked, amazed.

He shrugged. "Sure. I'd stepped on her toes pretty badly, so I remember it well. Gert was a fine old girl."

"What else is this old place going to tell me?"

He smiled, and his whole face lit up. "Whatever it is, I hope you like it."

The phone rang, so I dashed off to the foyer table where the ancient blue object was located.

I hoped it was Crystal, but the minute I picked up the receiver, Drew started yelling, "Have you gone as crazy as your mother, woman? I'll be home on Monday, and you'd better have a good excuse for what you've done. Why did you take all that money out of the bank?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now." I hung up on him.

The phone rang again immediately. I picked the receiver up. "I took the money out of the bank and buried it in the backyard under Aunt Gert's apricot tree. I left two bits in the accounts for your newest fling. I'm having supper with a friend, so leave me alone."

Drew was yelling and cussing as I hung up on him. I made a mental note to ask the phone company about getting caller ID when they came to add a jack to every room.

I returned to the kitchen and loaded another helping of barbecue onto my plate.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you this afternoon. I love your new haircut. It looks just like it did when we were in high school," Billy Lee said.

"Thank you." I smiled, and it felt dang good that he remembered.

"Was that Drew?"

"Yes."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Then we won't."

I'd never appreciated a person as much as I did Billy Lee right then.

I'd never been claustrophobic in my life until I shut the bedroom door the second night. Every knickknack in the room seemed to stare at me with those never-closing eyes. Shelves were covered with everything from cats to elephants waiting for me to shut my eyes so they could come alive like in a sci-fi movie. Poorly painted ceramic ducks on the windowsills had cacti growing out of the holes in their backs. I imagined them jumping off the sills and throwing cactus needles at me like porcupines.

The cold breeze from the air conditioner caused the wooden thread spool attached to the end of the light cord to sway. Would the menagerie of glass-eyed critters blink and begin to breathe if I yanked on the cord? Why was I suddenly afraid to turn off the light?

A little introspection said it wasn't all that junk that bothered me but the fact that Drew was coming home in two days. We'd never fought. Not one time. I'd figured out early how to keep him happy and made a full-time job of it. The wind-up clock beside the bed sounded a tick-tock warning in singsong fashion: Drew is coming home. You are dead. You will never out-argue a lawyer. He'll talk you into going back with him ... yes, he will!

I vowed that the next morning the animals and the clock were all going to the Dumpster or Goodwill. It was their last night to look at me with black-enameled eyes and evil little smirks on their faces or for the clock to tick out a message. I was in charge of my future, and Drew wasn't going to win, lawyer or not.