Pushing Up Daisies

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Special thanks to Kathy Schneider, Betty Prashker, and Michele Tempesta for getting me off to a good start. To Deborah Schneider for making it happen. To Marcia Markland, Diana Szu, Martha Schwartz, Maggie Goodman, Jonathan Bennett, and the talented people at St. Martin’s for making it better. To Andy Martin for making it fun. And to Bruce Harris for keeping me relatively sane during the process.

My first guess was heirloom silver, or maybe the family jewels, buried and forgotten years ago by some light- fingered servant or paranoid ancestor. I was wrong.

The metal crate was heavy, about two feet wide and three feet long with a small handle at one end. Crouching down at the edge of the flower bed, I dragged it out of the hole and used my trowel to pry it open. I was hoping for a reward or at the very least an interesting story to tell. That time I was right.

Inside was another, smaller container, ornately carved and cushioned by paper, padding, and disintegrating excelsior. I opened the smaller box and took out a tattered bundle wrapped in many layers of thin material. Given the weight of the box, the bundle was lighter than I expected-as if the fabric surrounded nothing more than a handful of feathers. That’s when the butterflies first entered my stomach.

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