“That’s the true gift of letter writing,” Mom said.
Trudy held up a faded pink envelope. “I was just trying to read this one when you knocked on the door. It’s from Aunt Marie to my mother, but it’s in a language I can’t figure out.”
“It’s not written in French?” I asked.
“No.” Trudy chuckled. “I have a feeling it’s some sort of hybrid language the two of them made up when they were in school. They were girlfriends from a very early age and attended a convent school near Limoges. For hundreds of years, the nuns taught the ancient languages, Latin, Medieval French, Coptic, some sort of ancient Hebrew, among others.”
“That must’ve been challenging.”
“You would think so, but according to my mother, the students used to take it in stride. My mother and aunt would use a combination of those languages in their letters to each other so nobody else could understand what they wrote.”
I smiled. “Little girls like to keep their secrets.”
“Most definitely.” She handed the pink envelope to me. “You might find this one interesting, Brooklyn. Not the letter itself, but the paper is unlike anything else in the box.”
I looked at the envelope and frowned. “There’s a stamp but no address written on it.”
Trudy looked mildly concerned. “Oh, I didn’t realize. . . .”
“It’s probably explainable,” I murmured. “She might’ve slipped another letter inside a new envelope.” I rubbed the notepaper between my thumb and forefinger. The finish felt like satin, and I wondered where it had originated. I looked more closely and could make out part of a watermark. “May I take this with me for a day or two? I would love to track down this papermaker.”
“Certainly.” She nodded eagerly. “You’ve stirred my curiosity.”
“Yes. Mine, too.” I slipped the letter into my purse, knowing this wasn’t the time to delve into its secrets. But now I was anxious to study it and hoped I could grab some time tonight before or after dinner. My friends and family were used to my getting geeky over things like this.
“Oh,” Trudy said, suddenly remembering. “I was going to call you later today.”
“That’s right. You said something when we first arrived.”
Trudy reached for a smaller piece of paper on the side table. “I have a favor to ask you, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I said.
She hesitated as Amelia toddled in at that moment with a tray holding a small pot of tea and several mugs. Setting it down on the coffee table, Amelia made a show of rubbing her nose and glaring at Trudy’s box of letters. “So much dust,” she muttered.
I glanced at the tray and noticed there were no cookies being served. This time, though, Amelia was nice enough to pour the tea into our cups and pass them around. I thanked her profusely, and she gave me a glower that was meant to make me cower. Instead, I smiled and winked at her. She huffed and puffed and stomped off to the kitchen.
What were we talking about? I had to think for a minute. “Sorry, Trudy. You had a favor to ask?”
“Yes.” She waved the piece of paper she’d been holding. “I received a phone call this morning from the granddaughter of an old friend. She told me the oddest thing. She read a brief story in her local newspaper about the treasure in the caves. It reminded her that I live in the area, and she asked if I would like to have a visitor for a week. Of course I was delighted to say yes.”
“That’ll be fun for you,” Mom said.
“Won’t it? After we finished our phone call, she sent me the sweetest e-mail.” She waved the piece of paper again, and I assumed it was the e-mail from the girl. “She’s a darling thing, but I’m concerned that she’ll be bored staying here. I’m not as spry as I used to be, and I think she might appreciate meeting some people closer to her own age.”
“Why would she be bored?” I said. “You’re wonderful company.”
“Aren’t you a dear.” Trudy sighed. “But she’s so much younger than me. She’s closer to your age, Brooklyn, and I was hoping you’d be willing to take her to lunch one day while she’s here. And if the two of you get along, perhaps some evening you and Derek can take her out and introduce her to some more friends. I would pay for your meals, of course.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’ll be happy to meet her for lunch.” I didn’t mention how ridiculously busy I’d been lately because I figured I still had to eat lunch, right? So why not do a favor for Trudy and by extension, Guru Bob?
“When does she arrive?” Mom asked.
“Next week, on Wednesday.”
I tried to visualize my calendar. Wednesday was our big press conference with all the reporters. “I’ll come by on Thursday and take her to lunch, if that works for you.”
“It’s perfect. I’m so grateful.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I said.
“What’s her name, Trudy?” Mom asked.
“Elizabeth Trent.”