Page 65 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“I don’t have gloves.”
Meghan smiled. “I always carry extras.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a clear surgical pair.
Sophie snapped them on her hands, then began to unfurl the newspaper while Meghan and I played lookout. Two older women approached and I poured coffee for them without charging them just to make them leave faster.
“Oh.” Sophie’s head was bent over the paper and I joined her to peer into the opening.
“I know, right?” Meghan said. “It’s amazing that it’s so well preserved. Probably because it’s made of mahogany, which is naturally bug and moisture resistant, but also because it found its way inside a leather traveling bag with a wad of what we think might have been a fabric coated with linseed oil that made it partially waterproof. It’s what floor mats were originally made of, and it’s just our luck that one may have been discarded around the same time this ended up in the cistern. It’s amazing what really old garbage we can salvage because it was accidentally thrown away with something that worked to preserve it.” She sounded as excited as I imagined a bride would when discovering the perfect wedding dress.
A small slab of wood, about the size of my car’s rearview mirror, lay in the middle of the newspaper. One side was finished in the remains of a dark stain, the wood dull and split from years of being buried. Sophie flipped it over, the wood lighter and unstained on this side, and in worse condition without the protection of the stain and varnish of the front. On one of the short sides, a mottled brass square that might have been a hinge hung precariously to its spot near the top, two small nail holesnear the bottom showing where a second hinge might have been. “It looks like a tiny door,” I said.
Meghan nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. I brushed it clean before wrapping it so Dr. Wallen-Arasi could have a better look. It’s so different from all the pottery fragments and animal bones that I thought it was unusual enough to make sure I brought it to your attention.”
“Nice work, Meghan,” Sophie said, making the young woman’s cheeks pinken. Sophie leaned a little closer. “What’s this?”
I wasn’t wearing my glasses—no surprise there—and when I squinted it appeared that there was just a dark smudge of dirt in the corner.
“I saw that, too,” Meghan said. “So after I got it cleaned up, I got out my magnifying glass and took a look. It’s a carving of a peacock. With its tail feathers opened. I have no idea what it might mean.”
Sophie and I met each other’s gaze. “It probably means that whatever piece of furniture this came from—and I’m assuming it’s part of a piece of furniture because of the fine wood—was made at Gallen Hall Plantation.” Sophie ran her finger over a small indentation at the top corner, her finger fitting neatly into the space. “I’m thinking this might have been one of those hidden doors we find all the time inside old desks and dressers. This door would have been flush against the back or side of a drawer opening and could be opened with a single finger.” She flipped it over in her hands again. “This would have been a fairly small place to hide things. Most likely letters or documents.” She glanced briefly at me. “Definitely something small.”
“So not gold bricks?” Meghan asked.
“Definitely not.” Sophie shook her head. “What makes you ask that?”
“Several times Marc Longo has come out to the cistern to check our progress, asking us whether or not we’ve used metal detectors to find anything metal.” Meghan rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t have better equipment than that.” She held up a foot, now without a cast, to remind us of the XRF machine that had fallen on it earlier in the year. “The thing is, I overheard him saying something to that producer guy. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you know how loudly he talks.”
I nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“Anyway, I was in the dining room and Mr. Kobylt was showing me the repairs he was doing to the floor in there, and Mr. Longo was telling the producer guy something about how he was sure the Confederate gold was on Vanderhorst property.” Meghan rolled her eyes again. “Which is kind of ridiculous, really. There has been so much research on the subject and the conclusion is that the bulk of it was stolen from federal troops in 1865 by unknown persons and disbursed.” With an insider grin, she said, “And we’ve all read about the Confederate diamonds found in your grandfather clock, Mrs. Trenholm. They’re all accounted for, so I guess Mr. Longo just wants to believe that the gold must be there, too.” She tilted her head in question. “They are all accounted for, right?”
I nodded. “Yes. We know what happened to all of the diamonds, and found the remaining ones that hadn’t been given away or sold. I wish there were more.” I hadn’t meant to say that, at least not out loud to an almost stranger. There was just something about Meghan’s open and eager face that encouraged confidences.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Very,” I said slowly. “Why do you ask?”
She continued to look speculative. “Well, there was a reporter from thePost and Courier—Suzy something—who came by yesterday. She’s writing a story on hidden historical treasures that might be found in the Lowcountry. She mentioned the pirate treasure supposedly buried on Sullivan’s Island, the Confederate gold and diamonds, and the connection of the last two to your house. I told her you would be the best person to ask about that because all I knew was that I was supposed to be excavating the cistern and so far had only discovered broken bits of pottery and bones.”
“That’s all, then? She didn’t say anything else?”
“Actually, she did. Something about another treasure—from the American Revolution. Something given to the Americans by the king of France maybe? She said there are plenty of rumors about what thetreasure might be, but nobody knows for sure. She wanted to know if I’d heard anything about that, or if you’d mentioned it to me.”
My mouth went completely dry. I had had a dozen or so phone calls and texts from Suzy Dorf, which, as usual, I’d ignored. She’d been nothing but a thorn in my side since I’d inherited the house on Tradd Street. Besides being nosy and too inquisitive about the rumored possibility that I could speak to the dead, her worst fault was being friends with Rebecca. Now I wondered if I should have been so hasty with theDECLINEbutton on my phone.
“I see. And was Mr. Longo there when she stopped by?”
Meghan shook her head. “No. He’d been sent out to get more batteries and lightbulbs since everything was losing power and every time they flipped on a light, the bulb would explode.” She raised her eyebrows, as if she expected us to reassure her that this was perfectly normal. Which it was, of course. For us.
“Interesting,” Sophie said, her tone indicating that the subject was anything but. “Did she happen to mention why she thought Mrs. Trenholm would have any knowledge about the French treasure?”
Meghan shook her head again. “She didn’t, and I didn’t ask. It was getting dark and I still had a lot more work to do in the cistern while there was still daylight. None of us like to be there after the sun goes down.” She didn’t need to explain that the reason was only partially because it was hard to excavate without full light.
“That’s fine,” Sophie said reassuringly. “You’re doing a great job, by the way.” She indicated the wooden door resting on the newspaper. “And thanks for bringing this to me—I’m sure it’s important; I just can’t figure out why yet.”
“Yay,” Meghan said, giving a little clap with her hands. “You’ll let me know when you figure it out, all right?”
“Absolutely,” Sophie said. “Now, go make a wreath for your mom and have fun. Nola and her friends are here to help get you started....” Her words trailed off as we followed her gaze to the first table in the opened carriage house, where Nola, Alston, and Lindsey were supposed to be welcoming the participants, taking tickets, and explaining howthe whole process worked. Instead, the three girls were sitting at the table with their heads bowed over a thick textbook that was opened between the three of them while people milled about in front of them trying to figure out where they should start.
