Free Finding Fortune by Delia Ray

“Isn’t she helping?”
    â€œNo. She’s still showing her son around the museum. Mine wouldn’t want Hildy’s help anyway. They get kind of cranky when they cook together.”
    I checked my watch for the tenth time that afternoon. It was three-thirty. If Hildy spotted me in the kitchen, I’d just have to say Mom was probably on her way and pray that Nora didn’t have to work tonight in case I needed to make another fake phone call. I reached in my pocket to squeeze my new lucky charm and followed Hugh downstairs.
    When we arrived in the kitchen, Mine had an oven rack pulled out and was staring down at a partly cooked slab of meat like it was a dead possum that had just landed in her pan. “Oh, hey, Ren,” she said. Her voice was tense and her cheeks were blazing. “Any idea how long you should cook a rump roast? Or what temperature I should be using?”
    I winced. “Gosh, I’m not sure. Is roast anything like meat loaf? I think my mom cooks most stuff at 350.”
    Mine swung her dreadlock ponytail over her shoulder and bent down to shove the pan back into the oven. “I’m going to turn this baby up to 425.” She twisted one of the knobs behind the burners on top. “Just to be sure it’s done in time. I’ve never seen such a bloody piece of meat.”
    I took over peeling potatoes while Hugh sat on the counter next to me banging his heels against the cabinets. Mine started to make a salad, then realized that some of the vegetables she had bought at the store were missing. “They probably forgot to put one of my bags in the cart,” she grumbled as she left to check in her car. “I hope everybody likes lettuce.”
    She had only been gone a minute when Hugh and I heard Hildy arguing with somebody out in the cafetorium. Hugh stopped bumping his heels and I froze with my potato peeler in midair. “Of course people will pay five bucks to get in, Jack,” Hildy was saying. “Five dollars would be a bargain! Didn’t I tell you those priss-pots at the historical society are banging my door down trying to get a look at my collection? If they can charge admission at their rinky-dink museum, why can’t I?”
    Hugh stared back at me, his eyes round.
    â€œIt’s ridiculous, Mother,” Hildy’s son answered, his voice bristling with impatience. “You could have moved to a nice retirement center with what you made selling your antiques store in Bellefield and your old home in Fortune. But, instead, you’re spending your last savings on this outlandish venture. And what about all that debris piled in the gym? It’s a fire hazard. If the fire marshal ever finds his way out here, you’ll be shut down. I knew you’d been collecting button memorabilia over the years, but good grief, I had no idea how much you had socked away at your shop and in that old barn behind the house. Forgive me, but how in the world do you think you can pull this off on your own?”
    â€œI’m not on my own,” Hildy snapped. “I’ve got Garrett. And Mayor Joy’s back. He says he’s not going out on any more jobs this summer and he wants to help me.”
    â€œThat’s another thing. Who are all these characters that you’re taking under your wing? You’re charging them peanuts. They’re using you, Mother. You should at least be conducting some sort of screening process or background check before you roll out the welcome wagon for anyone who happens to wander through.”
    Like me, I thought uneasily. I set the potato peeler down on the counter.
    â€œListen, son,” Hildy was saying. “You’re not going to talk me out of this. I’m an old, old woman and I think I’ve earned the right to do what I want. It’s been a dream of mine for the last fifty years.”
    There was a long pause, and when Hildy’s son finally answered, his voice had quieted.