threads are caught. Hang on a second and don’t let this thing go,” she directed. “I can just see the headline in The Point : ‘Local woman flattened by runaway rug; best friend to blame for her demise.’”
“Forget flattened . You’re lucky I’m holding this side, or you would get smacked, ” Alice said.
Annie ignored her and carefully lifted each tiny thread from a floorboard. “OK, I’m done.”
The two finished the task, and with Annie doing most of the heavy lifting, leaned the rug against the wall.
“Hey, Annie, look at that board,” Alice said from her spot on the floor, pointing at a piece of a plank about eighteen inches in length. “It’s a completely different finish, and doesn’t even look like the same kind of lumber.”
Annie examined the plank of the old wooden floor. “It looks like Grandpa or someone had to do some repair work on the floor,” Annie said. “Doesn’t look like they did a very good job of it, either. See? This part of the plank wasn’t nailed in as securely as the original boards. It warped a bit, and now it’s loose.”
Annie kneeled down to run her fingers along the side of the board; Alice scooted over next to her, doing the same. Annie put pressure on the opposite end of the plank, and the slight warp helped pop the board out with just a little tugging.
“Look at that!” Alice exclaimed when the light revealed a small hidey-hole beneath the board. The friends began pulling out the contents—a faded brown fabric square wrapped around a spatula, a dull knife, a small bottle with an ornate label that said “The Spice Café,” and a dusty old mason jar, the ring and lid long since rusted together. Once they cleaned off the jar, they could easily see the contents—small sheets of paper, most with handwriting on them.
“Try to get it open,” Annie implored as Alice wrestled with it.
“I’m trying, but it’s stuck.”
Annie and Alice decided to take their newly found treasures to the kitchen, where they worked to open the jar. After several attempts—banging the jar upside down and running hot water over the ring—it loosened enough that they could remove it. Finally, they used a knife to pry up the lid a tiny bit until it gave way so unexpectedly that the jar’s contents flew all over the floor.
“Well, this certainly is odd,” Alice said, attempting to collect the sheets into a tidy pile. “Looks like this jar is full of recipes. But they are pretty smudged, and there are lots of question marks and other odd squiggles.”
“Why would anyone hide a jar full of recipes under a floorboard?” Annie asked, wiping her forehead and squinting at a recipe that appeared to have been written in the dark.
“Well, Annie, m’ dear,” Alice said, “in addition to a nice cleared floor for Wally to work on, it looks like we’ve got ourselves another mystery!”
****
After Alice and Annie shared the story of their discovery, Peggy, excited as usual at the prospect of a mystery, asked, “Why would someone hide recipes in the floor? It’s not money or jewels or a treasure map or a dead body.”
The ladies laughed, and Alice said, “I for one am glad it’s not a dead body. But it’s just recipes, for heaven’s sake, and in the carriage house! Why would anyone feel the need to hide them?”
“And more importantly, who would do that?” asked Stella, brushing imaginary lint off her slacks. “I would assume someone who lived in the carriage house would have done the hiding, but I certainly can’t imagine why.”
Kate stopped unpacking and pricing a shipment of buttons and leaned over one of the empty chairs. “That really is strange,” she said.
“And why would anyone hide recipes that are so awful?” Mary Beth chimed in.
“Maybe I didn’t get the recipe right,” Alice said, “or maybe something is missing from the recipe. It was sort of hard to make out everything.”
The ladies continued chatting, trying to come up with a reasonable
“Forget flattened . You’re lucky I’m holding this side, or you would get smacked, ” Alice said.
Annie ignored her and carefully lifted each tiny thread from a floorboard. “OK, I’m done.”
The two finished the task, and with Annie doing most of the heavy lifting, leaned the rug against the wall.
“Hey, Annie, look at that board,” Alice said from her spot on the floor, pointing at a piece of a plank about eighteen inches in length. “It’s a completely different finish, and doesn’t even look like the same kind of lumber.”
Annie examined the plank of the old wooden floor. “It looks like Grandpa or someone had to do some repair work on the floor,” Annie said. “Doesn’t look like they did a very good job of it, either. See? This part of the plank wasn’t nailed in as securely as the original boards. It warped a bit, and now it’s loose.”
Annie kneeled down to run her fingers along the side of the board; Alice scooted over next to her, doing the same. Annie put pressure on the opposite end of the plank, and the slight warp helped pop the board out with just a little tugging.
“Look at that!” Alice exclaimed when the light revealed a small hidey-hole beneath the board. The friends began pulling out the contents—a faded brown fabric square wrapped around a spatula, a dull knife, a small bottle with an ornate label that said “The Spice Café,” and a dusty old mason jar, the ring and lid long since rusted together. Once they cleaned off the jar, they could easily see the contents—small sheets of paper, most with handwriting on them.
“Try to get it open,” Annie implored as Alice wrestled with it.
“I’m trying, but it’s stuck.”
Annie and Alice decided to take their newly found treasures to the kitchen, where they worked to open the jar. After several attempts—banging the jar upside down and running hot water over the ring—it loosened enough that they could remove it. Finally, they used a knife to pry up the lid a tiny bit until it gave way so unexpectedly that the jar’s contents flew all over the floor.
“Well, this certainly is odd,” Alice said, attempting to collect the sheets into a tidy pile. “Looks like this jar is full of recipes. But they are pretty smudged, and there are lots of question marks and other odd squiggles.”
“Why would anyone hide a jar full of recipes under a floorboard?” Annie asked, wiping her forehead and squinting at a recipe that appeared to have been written in the dark.
“Well, Annie, m’ dear,” Alice said, “in addition to a nice cleared floor for Wally to work on, it looks like we’ve got ourselves another mystery!”
****
After Alice and Annie shared the story of their discovery, Peggy, excited as usual at the prospect of a mystery, asked, “Why would someone hide recipes in the floor? It’s not money or jewels or a treasure map or a dead body.”
The ladies laughed, and Alice said, “I for one am glad it’s not a dead body. But it’s just recipes, for heaven’s sake, and in the carriage house! Why would anyone feel the need to hide them?”
“And more importantly, who would do that?” asked Stella, brushing imaginary lint off her slacks. “I would assume someone who lived in the carriage house would have done the hiding, but I certainly can’t imagine why.”
Kate stopped unpacking and pricing a shipment of buttons and leaned over one of the empty chairs. “That really is strange,” she said.
“And why would anyone hide recipes that are so awful?” Mary Beth chimed in.
“Maybe I didn’t get the recipe right,” Alice said, “or maybe something is missing from the recipe. It was sort of hard to make out everything.”
The ladies continued chatting, trying to come up with a reasonable
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