True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,29
I’ve had fun imagining what’s inside. Probably not gold bars or coins. It’s not heavy enough.”
“Could be bundles of cash.”
“From a robbery?” She looked excited about the prospect.
“I wasn’t thinking that. I’ve heard stories about older people who stuff spare cash in unusual places. Like in the dishwasher, or inside the pockets of old coats they don’t wear anymore.”
“I’ve heard those stories, too. I don’t think Miss Barton was that type. She kept her money in a savings account and left a note giving it to various veteran organizations. Same with the proceeds of the house. I don’t think there’s cash in here.”
“Whatever it is doesn’t weigh all that much.”
“That’s why I think it’s clothes.”
“That wouldn’t be very exciting.”
“It would be if it’s sexy outfits she wore for her secret lover.”
“Miss Barton had a secret lover?”
“Not since I’ve known her, and she never mentioned anyone by name, but I got the distinct impression she had some sexy times in this house.”
“And she dressed up?”
“Why not? Especially if her lover enjoyed seeing her in fishnet stockings and satin corsets. If I’m right, Beth will get a kick out of looking through Miss Barton’s stash.”
“Assuming you’re right, why would she keep it?”
“For the memories. And what else was she going to do besides put them in a locked trunk? Throwing them away would be wasteful and she couldn’t very well donate them to the church rummage sale.”
“I suppose not.”
“Once I open the lid, the mystery will be solved.”
“Then don’t open it yet. Save it for later.”
“No, I’m opening it.” She threw back the lid, which was lined with a flower-printed material. Then she stared at the trunk’s contents. “Oh. My. God.”
Chapter Fourteen
A wedding dress. No mistaking that for seductive lingerie.
It was tucked inside a zippered plastic bag that had turned yellow with age and was cracked in several places. One of Eva’s friends in beauty school had bought a similar bag and had shared pictures of her stored wedding dress. Otherwise Eva might not have identified what she was looking at.
This dress looked more gray than white, and clearly it had been in the trunk a very long time. She hesitated to take the bag out for fear it would fall apart in her hands.
Nick peered into the trunk. “Doesn’t look like sexy lingerie to me.”
“It’s a wedding dress that’s been stored in this trunk for years. Which makes no sense because I know for a fact Winifred Barton was Miss Barton. She told me herself that she’d never been married.”
“Her mother’s?”
“Couldn’t be. They wouldn’t have had plastic storage bags when her mother got married.”
“Is that all that’s in there?”
“I doubt it. This is a deep trunk. But if I try to take the bag out, it’s liable to disintegrate, and then we’ll have a mess.”
“What if I move the trunk someplace where it won’t matter as much?”
“Good idea. Maybe to my enclosed back porch.” She put down the lid and got to her feet. “That’s where I planned to put the other stuff from the attic.”
He reached for the trunk.
“Hang on a sec. I’ve only cleaned a path to the washer and dryer. I don’t want to set it on a dusty floor.”
“Do you have anything to set it on?”
“I do. Be right back.” She walked quickly to a closet in the hall and returned with an old plastic shower curtain. “Now that I think about it, I’d rather sort through it on the front porch.”
He hoisted the trunk. “After you.”
She held the screen door while he maneuvered the trunk through sideways. Then she spread the shower curtain at the far end of the porch where a maple tree provided dappled shade. “I almost threw this curtain away. Glad I didn’t.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“It used to hang over the claw-foot tub in my bathroom. It’s one of the few things I didn’t like when I moved in. The tub’s gorgeous and deserves a quality curtain. It’s on my list.”
“There’s a claw-foot tub in there?” He positioned the trunk on the far side of the curtain.
“You didn’t see it?”
“No, ma’am. Was a bit distracted.”
“You should check it out next time you go upstairs. It’s a beauty.” She stepped onto the shower curtain and lifted the trunk lid.
“Want me to pull the bag out for you?”
“Thanks, but I can do it.” Sliding her hands down the sides of the bag, she located the seam at the bottom and tucked her hand under it. “I’m feeling cardboard underneath.”
“A box?”
“Maybe several.” Scooping up the scratchy