Tom Dolby - The Trust

“This is like a page out of Architectural Digest, circa 1974,” Phoebe said.

Outside they could see that Lauren, Thad, and Lia were sunning by the pool and being served sandwiches by Horatio. Thad was trying to explain to them how to play senet, though Lauren seemed more interested in her copy of Italian Vogue. They were using a golf tee to represent the missing piece.

Patch scanned the bookshelves that lined the walls, save for a small alcove behind Palmer’s desk that was curtained in a fabric that was the same dark mustard color. In this room was Palmer’s entire life, the life of a man who had always been mysterious to him. Books, awards, diplomas. Medals of commendation from various organizations. Photographs of Palmer with dignitaries. He was a man who couldn’t have been more distant from Patch-he suspected that Palmer disliked him, for he had never paid him any mind. And yet there was something strangely comforting about the room, the way that a smell is familiar. It reminded Patch of his childhood.

“Hey, Earth to Patch. Come check this out.” Nick had flipped up a raised wooden panel on the side of the desk. In it were two buttons. Patch and Phoebe went to take a closer look.

“Should we push them?” Phoebe asked.

“It could be an alarm,” Nick said. “Horatio will know something’s going on.”

“Just make something up,” Patch said. “Say you were looking for a notepad and you pushed it by accident.”

“Prepare to be kicked out,” Nick said. He pushed the top button and the three of them cringed.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, the set of curtains parted in the alcove behind Palmer’s desk. It had seemed when they first looked at them that the curtains were merely a decorative element, but now, behind them was a piece of stone with some Egyptian hieroglyphics on it. It was encased in a Plexiglas box and a spotlight shone on it, as if it were in a museum.

“Have you ever seen this before?” Patch asked.

Nick shook his head. “He used to have a painting hanging on that wall. The usual Floridian crap.”

The three of them turned to see that Thad had slipped into the room and was gazing with admiration at the piece of stone.

“If that’s the real thing, your grandfather’s been holding out on everyone,” Thad said. “It’s got to be worth a million dollars or something.”

“What do you mean?” Patch asked.

“That’s a serious piece of antiquity there.”

“In plain English, please,” Nick said.

“It’s probably Egyptian,” Thad said. “Possibly from a temple. I’m not an expert, but something like that belongs in a museum, not in some old man’s study.”

“What do you think the second button does?” Nick asked.

Patch shrugged. “Push it and see. We’ve gotten this far.”

Nick pushed the button and the piece started swiveling around on a turntable, revealing the hieroglyphics on the back. Like the front, it was beautiful, with images of deities and animals on the glyphs.

Patch went closer to take a look. “There’s something in the stone, a key of some sort.”

There was a playing card-sized hinged door in the back of the Plexiglas box that corresponded exactly with a little niche in the stone. In it was wedged a key.

“Okay,” Thad said. “That key is not part of the original stonework. They didn’t have keys like that back then.”

“You need to find the key,” Nick said.

“Um, moron, the key is right there,” Patch said.

“No,” Phoebe said, “what he means is that Palmer told us, ‘You need to find the key.’”

“And this key opens what?” Thad asked.

“I have no idea. But we need to get it.” The little door was locked. “Can you guys open this?” Nick asked.

“I can pick the lock,” Patch said. “But there’s no way that it’s not on an alarm.”

Thad examined it. “It’s a basic magnetic latch system,” he said.

“Can you disable it?” Nick said.

“Give me half an hour,” Thad said. “And tell me where your grandfather’s maintenance room is. With the right tools, Patch and I can get it open.”

“So what do we do?” Nick asked, motioning to Phoebe.

“You go hang out with the girls,” Thad said. “And keep Horatio busy enough that he’s not going to come looking for us.”

That evening, Lauren made a reservation for the six of them at an Italian restaurant on Worth Avenue that she knew her mother liked. It was a colorful scene, with a pastiche of Palm Beach socialites, their plastically altered faces frozen in time, overly tanned gay decorators, Manhattan celebrities in exile, and elderly dowagers dripping in costume jewelry who looked like they never left the island. Lauren and her friends were the youngest ones there, but thanks to Thad’s flirting with the maitre d’, they had scored an amazing table and had been comped several bottles of wine.

Nick had decided that after dinner they would make a small fire on the beach and roast s’mores. The boys were reveling over some kind of key that they had managed to find in the house, though no one knew exactly what the key would open. On the beach, as Lauren sipped the beer that Nick had offered her from a cooler, she only wanted to focus on things that were fun, diversions that would take her away from everything.

She sat with Phoebe and Thad on a towel near the crackling fire while Nick, Patch, and Lia tossed around a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee. Their marshmallows had burned to a crisp and were gooey and disgusting, and everyone shrieked each time they went up in flames. Thad helped them whittle down some sticks so that they could roast them without letting them fall into the fire.

For Lauren the trip had been a welcome relief from the city. Perhaps it was silly, but a tropical location like this, not to mention her friends’ happiness, had made her think again of Alejandro. Palm Beach reminded her of that Saturday afternoon they had spent swimming at the house his parents had rented in Southampton, a chic, modern house that looked like it belonged in Miami. It reminded her of the dancing they had done under a background of palm trees to a Brazilian pop sensation singing “The Girl from Ipanema.”

But Alejandro had been foolish. She had told herself this over and over again. Foolish with his life. He had squandered his opportunities. Even worse, he had broken her heart.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to blame him. After all, if it weren’t for the Society, Alejandro would still be here today.

Lauren looked over at Thad, as he carefully held his melting marshmallow over the flames. She had been so grateful for his friendship ever since he had pulled her out of her self-absorbed bubble several weeks ago. He had been so supportive and sweet, and she was indebted to him. She wished he would meet someone, though part of her also wished that she could keep him all to herself.

Lauren felt guilty for playing such a passive role in getting out of the Society, while her friends did all the work. But she was exhausted and depressed by it all. It was difficult to get excited about Nick’s grandfather’s challenge when her main personal struggle was getting out of bed each morning. She knew she would get through it, but for now, it hurt. Nothing, not even getting out of the Society, was going to change that.

Later that evening Patch lay next to Lia on the king-size bed in their guest suite. Aside from their coffee at the Pink Pony, they had barely even had a real date, and now he was in this incredibly romantic situation. They kissed for a few minutes before she broke the mood by asking the question he had been dreading.

“Patch, you’ve got to tell me, what’s going on here?”