Chapter 3

Days passed like a dull knife, carving at the flesh one day at a time.

Gloria's sixtieth birthday was coming up.

To Gloria, this was a very big deal. She wanted it done in grand style. She wanted the whole town of Millbrook to see that even though she was getting old, she was still the most respectable woman around.

"I want an open-house banquet. Thirty tables." Gloria sat cross-legged on the bed, giving Frank his orders. "Go into town and book the best caterer there is. Lobster and steak, no skimping. The cigarettes have to be Marlboros, and the liquor has to be top-shelf whiskey."

Frank was writing it all down in a little notebook. His pen paused. "That's going to cost a lot. We don't have that kind of money."

"Money, money, money, all you ever do is cry poor!" Gloria snapped. "Dale already said he'll cover all the drinks for the party! Look how generous Dale is. Nothing like you. Oh, and what gift have you got for me? I'm warning you, don't try to pass off one of those junky little things you whittle out of scrap wood. It's embarrassing."

Frank closed the notebook and said slowly, "Don't worry. This time it's a big gift. I've been getting it ready for the better part of a year."

"Oh? Well, will wonders never cease?" Gloria laughed scornfully. "What could you possibly come up with that's any good? Don't tell me you dug it out of a dumpster."

Dale from next door happened to walk in just then and burst out laughing when he heard that. "Gloria, don't turn your nose up at Frank's little gesture. If he can't come up with something decent, I'll get you something big. A gold bracelet. Solid gold, nearly two ounces!"

Gloria's eyes lit up instantly. She laughed so hard the powder flaked off her face. "Oh my, how could I ever accept that? You're the one who really takes care of me, Dale."

The two of them flirted right in front of Frank. He might as well have been invisible, quietly clearing the sunflower seed shells off the table.

Over the next few days, Frank got very busy.

Every day he left before dawn with a big woven sack on his back, and no one knew where he went. Someone saw him go into a copy shop in the county seat. Someone else saw him at the stone yard in the next village over. And someone else saw him wandering around the family burial plot on the hill out back.

Gloria didn't care in the slightest what he was up to. All she cared about was trying on the red sequined cocktail dress she would wear to the party, with Dale.

The night before the party.

Frank stayed in the woodshed a long time. There was no light in the woodshed, only moonlight spilling in through the cracks.

In front of him sat a red wooden box. He had made it with his own hands from red pine, carved it with fine patterns, and given it eight coats of lacquer.

He reached out and gently stroked the box, feeling the grain of the wood under his fingertips.

"Twenty-five years," Frank murmured to himself. "With all the interest piled up, it's time this debt got settled."

He took a key from inside his coat and carefully locked the box.

That night, Frank slept soundly. He even snored. It was Gloria, in the next room, who was too excited to sleep for half the night, sending voice messages back and forth with Dale, planning how she would steal the show tomorrow.