Ripped From the Pages

“That’s a tragedy.” We crossed the street and walked into El Diablo. “Here we are.”

 

 

“The Devil,” she said with a laugh. “What a great name.”

 

We walked into the cool, dark restaurant. The hostess took us to a comfortable booth where a waiter appeared with chips and salsa.

 

Elizabeth grabbed a chip, dragged it through the salsa, and took a bite. “This salsa is fantastic.”

 

“Everything’s good here. It may be a little early, but if you like margaritas, they serve the best in the world.”

 

“I’d love one, but I probably shouldn’t indulge at lunch.” She brightened. “Maybe I’ll come back for dinner.”

 

I grinned. “Excellent plan.”

 

She crunched down on another crispy, salty chip and sighed. “I’m in heaven.”

 

Once we’d placed our orders, Elizabeth said, “Thank you again for playing tour guide. I really appreciate it.”

 

“It’s no problem. I’m having a good time.” I took a sip of water and leaned back against the classic tuck-and-roll vinyl fabric of the booth. “So, where are you living that you can’t get good Mexican food? I need to know so I don’t go there.”

 

She laughed. “I live in a small town in Michigan, in the upper peninsula. I know they have some good Mexican restaurants in that part of the world, but not in my town.”

 

“Were you born and raised there?”

 

“Not really. I was a navy brat, so I grew up all over the place. Even spent two years in Sicily.”

 

“We have a naval base in Sicily?”

 

“Yes, we do. It was fun living there, but being a kid, I naturally whined about going home to Michigan most of the time. And once I got home, I couldn’t wait to leave again.”

 

“No wonder I can’t place your accent.”

 

“It’s because I’m a mutt,” she said. “I even affected an Italian accent for years after we left Sicily. I was such an annoying child.”

 

“I’m pretty sure we were all annoying children.”

 

“Absolutely,” she said. “It’s the role of children everywhere to annoy adults.”

 

I smiled. “We sound so cynical.”

 

“Maybe that’s why we’re getting along so well.”

 

Chuckling, I grabbed another chip, dunked it into the salsa, and popped it into my mouth. “So your grandmother and Trudy were old friends?”

 

“Yes, my grandparents spent their honeymoon here and returned every year for vacation. At some point, Grandma Reenie met Trudy, and they became friends. After that, they corresponded and got together every year. Grandma died last year, and I haven’t been very good about contacting her old friends.”

 

“You can’t be expected to do it all right away.”

 

“I guess not.” Idly, she dragged the edge of one chip through the salsa and seemed to study the pattern it made. “I had a hard time for a while. I think I fell into a depression, although I didn’t recognize it at the time. Grandma was my only living relative, and we were really close.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” I already liked Elizabeth. Knowing that she’d been alone and hurting made me feel for her. “Is Reenie your grandmother’s nickname?”

 

“Yes, short for Irene.”

 

“Was she Irish?”

 

“Can you tell?” Elizabeth laughed. “She was my mom’s mother. Mom was Irish down to her toes, with beautiful strawberry blond hair and a peaches and cream complexion.” She brushed her hand over her head of dark hair. “Naturally, I take after my dad.”

 

“Your hair is gorgeous.”

 

She laughed. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but thank you.”

 

There was a short pause, and we both reached for the chips.

 

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve been doing better lately, contacting Grandma’s old friends around town. And then I heard on the news that they found that treasure here, and I recalled that Trudy lived nearby, so I gave her a call. And it was the best thing I could’ve done. She reminds me of my grandmother in so many ways.”

 

“That’s wonderful. I hope you two have a great visit.”

 

“I think we will. We’re going champagne tasting tomorrow.”

 

I laughed. “How fun.”

 

I recommended a few good champagne houses, and we settled into an easy conversation over poblano chiles rellenos and tacos al carbón.

 

After lunch, we walked over to the town hall in the middle of the park. On the way, I explained that we’d decided to take pictures of the artwork and items we’d found in the caves and display them for anyone interested in the story. “Not only is the discovery historically important, but there are also a lot of families with a vested interest in keeping these items safe. So we decided to keep everything locked up in the storage caves and created this exhibit for the families and the community to enjoy in the meantime.”

 

“It’s fascinating,” Elizabeth said. “It sounds like you were dealing with a lot of disparate parties.”

 

“Yes, and some of them are very unhappy.” I was thinking of Henri as I said it, but a picture of Noland Garrity sprang to mind and almost ruined my afternoon.

 

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