Page 39 of Finders Keepers

Coward, I text Quentin once I’m safely ensconced in my bedroom with the door locked.

Yep , he replies. Then: Library again tomorrow?

Sure , I send, and attempt to swallow down the guilt and anxiety that come rising up in my throat.

Should I tell him I was there alone the other day?

My finger hovers over my phone, ready to type a message.

It’s just…I didn’t find anything (well, except an informal job offer and a sudden hyper-awareness of my own mortality).

So why bother telling him? I’ll keep on keeping it to myself. Maybe that makes me a coward too.

And if that doesn’t, I’m sure the fact that I continue avoiding my mother for approximately six and a half hours does.

I would go on for longer, except that’s when the spicy, tomato-y scent of crab soup and the sweet, buttery one of blackberry cobbler reach beneath my door.

My stomach growls in excitement. I haven’t eaten since the apple fritter this morning, and my lingering embarrassment turns out to be little defense against the siren call of dinner.

Thankfully—and surprisingly—Mom says absolutely nothing about Quentin when I make my way down the stairs. She simply looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch and says, “Soup’s ready if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks. It smells great.” It’s weird to have her acting like she doesn’t want to ask me a million questions.

I thought this would be the most interesting thing that happened to her all week, and she’s treating it like it’s as ho-hum an occurrence as Mr. Farina sitting on his porch.

“Do you want me to make you a bowl too?” I ask.

Maybe she’s just waiting until I’m comfortable and full of crab and vegetables to spring it on me.

She shakes her head as she bends to tie her sneaker. “I’ll eat when I get home. I’m off to pickleball with Theresa. She cheats horribly, but it’s good exercise.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, have fun.”

Mom stands up, grabs her bag, gives me a noisy kiss on the forehead, and heads out.

The next few days are filled with dead ends on the research front. We go back to the library to comb through everything yet again. I don’t tell Quentin I’ve already done that on my own, and Mrs. MacDonald thankfully doesn’t make any comments that give me away.

When that bears no fruit, we take another two trips to Sprangbur, just to walk through the gardens with our eyes out for anything interesting.

There isn’t much point to it when we have no new information to go off, but it does feel a lot like the old days, in the very best way.

Just Quentin and me, hanging out, joking and teasing, challenging each other to inconsequential competitions, chatting among the plants and strange structures.

I can’t pretend I’m not overjoyed to have this friendship returned to me when I once believed it was lost for good.

Every once in a while, we accidentally brush hands as we walk and my entire body lights up like an arcade game.

But hitting a jackpot doesn’t mean much when the machine isn’t loaded with tickets, so I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the bells and whistles going off inside me.

And I guess Quentin has too, because other than a few wistful smiles when I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking the same thing, he shows no sign of changing his mind about holding off.

Friday morning as I’m getting ready to meet him outside to go back to the library yet again, he texts me: Sorry for the late notice but can’t meet up today. Found a great deal on some specialty tile for the kitchen backsplash and have to go pick it up in Baltimore.

Oh, okay , I respond.

My phone vibrates again with the message: You can come along if you want?

It’s tempting. In fact, even though when I first got here I fussed about hanging out with Quentin to hunt for the treasure, I can’t deny the simple fact that being around him has always been better than not.

That was true when we were kids, and it’s true now.

Even when we were apart, I wanted more than anything for him to reach out and make things right.

Because I miss him when we aren’t together. Even when it’s only for a day.

That’s…less than ideal, though, isn’t it? To be this attached to someone who has let me down before.

So I text back, Thanks, but I should probably apply to more jobs. Have fun!

I’ve spent too much time with him lately, being the undefined, simplified version of myself he’s always drawn out. This is a good reminder that I need to keep trying to figure out who I’m going to become now, which Nina will emerge like a phoenix from the ashes of my old life.

But first I need lunch.

I try Best That You Can Brew but find it absolutely packed.

There isn’t a free seat in the whole place.

I pull up the map on my phone to review my other options for food in walking distance, because even after a few weeks of being back here, I’m not fully aware of what is and isn’t around anymore.

Instead of looking at the places that pop up when I select Restaurants , though, my eyes drift toward the green space labeled Historic Sprangbur Castle & Gardens .

Maybe after we find the treasure… The memory of Quentin’s voice in that moment makes warmth spread low in my belly.

After echoes tauntingly in my brain. Ugh. Too much of my life is on hold until we find this damn treasure. The one that better actually exist or I might explode in frustration—the sexual kind and also the regular kind that comes with having wasted time engaging in a futile task.

I zoom in on Sprangbur until the strange, abstract outline of Fountain’s mansion appears. Would it really be so bad if…

Yes.

Yes, Nina. That would be bad. That would literally be what screwed up everything last time. This is a lesson that was already learned.

My feet have already carried me in the direction of Riverside Park, though, and I still need to eat.

I guess I could try the burger place next to Flow State…

if it didn’t turn out to be closed for emergency repairs to the kitchen.

The fancy Italian restaurant isn’t open till five, and there’s no sign of the taco truck that was parked outside Flow State last time we were here either.

I am now hot and hungry, and my laptop bag keeps twisting and banging against my thigh with every step. I’m seconds away from admitting defeat when I remember that Hanako’s bar did have a small food menu.

Okay. I didn’t plan to go to Flow State today, but there’s no reason not to. It isn’t weird that Quentin and Hanako kissed when they were fifteen and Quentin and I kissed last weekend. No reason to make it weird either, especially when she’s my last hope for immediate nourishment.

The bar is nearly empty, which makes sense, I guess, considering it’s 11:30 in the morning on a Friday—not exactly when most people are going out for cocktails. It makes it extremely easy for Kell to spot me as soon as I walk in. “Hey! Nina, right?” they say in greeting. “Good to see you again.”

We were never actually introduced, so I’m not sure how Hanako’s partner recognizes me on sight.

“Um, hello,” I say, propping myself on a barstool.

“Hanako’s in the office. I’ll go get her.”

“Oh, no, it’s—” But before I can say it’s not necessary to disturb her, Kell has disappeared through a doorway beside the bar.

“Nina!” Hanako greets me with the same enthusiasm she showed when we came in last Saturday. “I didn’t know you were coming by today.”

“Me neither, actually. But I was in the area and starving, and the burger place next door is closed, but I remembered you had some small plates…”

“Of course! Let me get you today’s menu.” She slides me a paper with their specials.

“The hummus plate sounds great,” I say.

“Anything to drink?” she asks.

It’s tempting to see if she still has the stuff to make one of those Hi-C concoctions, but that feels like a poor choice, especially before noon. “Just water,” I say.

A few minutes later, she slides a highball glass in front of me. It has a paper umbrella sticking out of it. “Just because it’s water doesn’t mean it can’t be fun,” she explains with a smile.

Kell comes out of the kitchen with a plate full of vegetables and pita chips surrounding a ramekin of hummus.

“Do you want me to open a tab, or just pay when I’m done?” I ask Hanako.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh please. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “You really should let me pay for stuff.”

“Hey,” she says in faux offense. “It’s my business. I’ll run it how I want.” Then she leans over the bar, folding her arms, a grin spreading across her face. “But something that is absolutely not my business that I’m going to ask about anyway is what’s up with you and Quentin, hm?”

I pretend to be absolutely fascinated by the carrot stick in my hand. “Oh. Um. Nothing much.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say.

Hanako gives me a look that says she isn’t going to pry, but doesn’t believe me for a second.

“Okay, okay. Fine. We kissed. The night of the fundraiser here. And there was some…other stuff that happened. But we talked about it and decided that we should hold off on anything more than friendship for now.” It’s always been an unspoken rule that we don’t tell anyone we’re treasure hunting, and I can’t mention that our lives are currently in flux because I didn’t tell Hanako that I lost my job.

So I settle on, “We both recently got out of long-term relationships and are still getting to know each other again.” Which is absolutely the truth, even though that’s far, far down on the list of reasons we’re not hooking up.

“Very practical,” she says, reaching for another glass and filling it with Sprite for herself. “I’m glad he finally did it, though.”

“Did what?”

“Kissed you,” she says with a small laugh that seems like a kind substitute for duh . “He’s been wanting to for-freaking-ever, you know.”

Wait. It was me? I was his crush? Then why didn’t he…and then how come he…“But…” I’m cut off by a loud clang, something shattering, and raised voices coming from somewhere in the back room.

“Yikes,” Hanako says. “That sounded bad. I better go check it out.”

She leaves me alone with the startling realization that I was right about being wrong about my relationship with Quentin when we were younger—just not in the way I thought.