Page 60 of The Prize
“Because you have to get back to LA at some point too?”
“Right.” His tone was infused with uncertainty.
“Did your grandmother have any other relatives who might help with these?”
“Maybe my cousin Edward.”
“Why didn’t your mom want her to look after you instead of your uncle?”
“My grandmother was a photojournalist. Lots of traveling. I’d have slowed her down.” He threw in an admiring smile. “She wrote to me. I wrote back. I bet the letters are here somewhere.”
“Looks like adventure runs in your blood.”
“You might be right.”
“She sounds amazing. We could go through these together?” I peeked into one and ran my fingers over the records. “There’s a first edition Beatles LP. Look, it’sSergeant Pepper. It’s probably worth something.” Then I remembered who I was talking with. “It has sentimental value.”
“There’s a record player over there.”
“What’s that?” I pointed to the video cassette near his feet.
“It’s a video of a birthday party I had in the garden here.”
“Your party?”
“That’s what it says. Though it could have been recorded over.”
“Shall we watch it?” I tried to read how he felt about finding it.
“If you like.” He blew out a wary breath and looked over at me.
I stepped cautiously across the attic. “Look, there’s a Sony player, we can watch it on this.” I picked it up. “Can I help up here?”
He brushed dust off his trousers. “I’d love a cup of tea.”
“I knew I’d convert you.”
He beamed at me and guarded his head as he rose to avoid the low beams.
We brought down the Sony player into the main house along with the tape. While Tobias worked on setting up the ’80s cassette player in the sitting room, I made us tea and brought in our sandwiches. We huddled close on the sofa. It was nice being this close to him, and I sighed contentedly as I sipped my mug of tea.
“The footage has probably degraded,” he warned.
There came the flickering color image of a garden and I recognized it as this one. The camera scanned over the partygoers wearing paper hats and settled on a three-tiered cake on a table decorated with party favors. A young boy sat behind the table wearing a paper hat and waved at the camera. It was Tobias; I recognized his sweet face, those big green eyes full of wonder and his innocence shining brightly. There was a beautiful woman beside him who I recognized as his mom from the photos I’d seen. She was wearing a summer dress and her face lit up with joy when she talked to Tobias. A dashing man stepped into the frame and he had a French accent and from the way he hugged Tobias with pride it was obviously his dad. This footage was sacred and I knew it must hurt him to see it.
“Did your grandmother film this?” I gave him a comforting smile.
Tobias swallowed his uneasiness. “Yes.”
“Your mom’s beautiful.” She was enigmatic and had his smile. The camera panned to another dashing man watching them with fondness. “Is that your uncle?”
“That’s Fabienne.” Tobias gave a nod. “I should call him.”
“You look just like your dad.”
He really did with that charismatic smile and a sharp intelligence exuding through his eyes sparkling with joy.
Tobias blew out a stream of air as though that alone would help him hold back on showing emotion. Laughter and cheers came from the screen as his dad handed Tobias his wrapped birthday present.
