something this morning about having to get that damned article for International Wildlife finished, so he'd probably be at his desk in the Postman's Room. She dug the phone out from the shelf it shared with her coffee thermos and a stack of old historicals that she'd meant to give away ages ago, but never quite got around to. Setting the phone down on the countertop, she dialed the number and started to put the pouch's Contents back as she waited for Jamie to answer.
"Mmm?" he said, seven rings later.
"Hi, Jamie. Finished that article yet?"
"Oh, hello, Sairey. Almost. I'm having trouble summing up. How the hell do you sum up mushrooms?"
"You have them for dinner."
"Fun-nee."
"Guess who I threw out of the store today."
Jamie laughed. "David Lindsay, the well-known Australian explorer?"
"Nope. Geraldine Hathaway."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Good for you!" he said.
" And I've been working hard all afternoon— cleaning out the storerooms."
"For this you interrupt a genius at his labor?"
"A genius would know how to sum up an article on mushrooms."
"Keep it up and we'll have you for dinner, you little wretch." Sara laughed. She rolled the ring back and forth in the palm of her hand and, checking the side of the box to make sure she had the name right, asked:
"Jamie, do you know a Dr. Aled Evans? That's A-L-E-D."
"I knew a Dr. Evans. He was a history professor at Carleton who died a few years ago. In '76. Why do you ask?"
"Well, one of the boxes that I'm going through has 'From the Estate of Dr. Aled Evans' written on its side. Was he Welsh?"
"Born in Wales, but he grew up in Toronto. He moved up here when the university offered him a position in '63."
"How come we've got a box of his effects in the back of the store?"
"Ah, well. I got to know Aled quite well, as it happens. When he died he left me everything he had. He didn't have any close family, except for some distant cousins in Wales, and he didn't want to leave a lifetime's treasures with total strangers. Most of it— the furniture and books and the like— are scattered through the House, but there were a few boxes of junk that I just stored in the back of the shop.
"I'd planned to sell them, but I didn't have the heart to go through them. I'd forgotten they were even there. I haven't thought of Aled in a long time. Funny you should mention him. He used to love mushrooms."
"Would you rather I just left all this stuff in the back, then?"
"No. There's no real point in keeping it around. I'm sure Aled wouldn't have wanted me to hang onto that stuff. It was the books and artifacts that he was most concerned about. There can't be much of interest in those boxes anyway."
"Even in the desolate Arctic tundra, there are treasures to be found... "Sara said with a smile.
"What?"
"I said, you'd be surprised. I've found the most beautiful painting— pen and ink with a watercolor wash. Was he an artist?"
"Not that I knew."
"And there was something else— the neatest thing. It looks like an Indian medicine bag. You know. A little leather pouch with all sorts of odd things in it. A fox's claw, some feathers and corn kernels. But the most interesting things are a bone disc with some designs carved on it and a little gold ring."
"A gold ring?"
"Umhmm. It was inside a ball of clay. When I picked away at it, the ball fell apart and there it was."
"Strange. Though Aled always did have a bent for curiosities— especially anything with an anthropological slant to it. He loved old things — really old things— like Aztec pottery and arrowheads and the like. That weird clay demon-gourd you've got in your sitting room came from his collection."
Something clicked in Sara's mind.
"I remember," she said. "I just didn't connect it till now. I think I met him— just before I went to Europe. Was he the tall, reedy sort of fellow with a big bushy moustache like Yosemite Sam's?"
"Yosemite Sam? Such a lyrical description. For this I put you through college?"
"I never
"Mmm?" he said, seven rings later.
"Hi, Jamie. Finished that article yet?"
"Oh, hello, Sairey. Almost. I'm having trouble summing up. How the hell do you sum up mushrooms?"
"You have them for dinner."
"Fun-nee."
"Guess who I threw out of the store today."
Jamie laughed. "David Lindsay, the well-known Australian explorer?"
"Nope. Geraldine Hathaway."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Good for you!" he said.
" And I've been working hard all afternoon— cleaning out the storerooms."
"For this you interrupt a genius at his labor?"
"A genius would know how to sum up an article on mushrooms."
"Keep it up and we'll have you for dinner, you little wretch." Sara laughed. She rolled the ring back and forth in the palm of her hand and, checking the side of the box to make sure she had the name right, asked:
"Jamie, do you know a Dr. Aled Evans? That's A-L-E-D."
"I knew a Dr. Evans. He was a history professor at Carleton who died a few years ago. In '76. Why do you ask?"
"Well, one of the boxes that I'm going through has 'From the Estate of Dr. Aled Evans' written on its side. Was he Welsh?"
"Born in Wales, but he grew up in Toronto. He moved up here when the university offered him a position in '63."
"How come we've got a box of his effects in the back of the store?"
"Ah, well. I got to know Aled quite well, as it happens. When he died he left me everything he had. He didn't have any close family, except for some distant cousins in Wales, and he didn't want to leave a lifetime's treasures with total strangers. Most of it— the furniture and books and the like— are scattered through the House, but there were a few boxes of junk that I just stored in the back of the shop.
"I'd planned to sell them, but I didn't have the heart to go through them. I'd forgotten they were even there. I haven't thought of Aled in a long time. Funny you should mention him. He used to love mushrooms."
"Would you rather I just left all this stuff in the back, then?"
"No. There's no real point in keeping it around. I'm sure Aled wouldn't have wanted me to hang onto that stuff. It was the books and artifacts that he was most concerned about. There can't be much of interest in those boxes anyway."
"Even in the desolate Arctic tundra, there are treasures to be found... "Sara said with a smile.
"What?"
"I said, you'd be surprised. I've found the most beautiful painting— pen and ink with a watercolor wash. Was he an artist?"
"Not that I knew."
"And there was something else— the neatest thing. It looks like an Indian medicine bag. You know. A little leather pouch with all sorts of odd things in it. A fox's claw, some feathers and corn kernels. But the most interesting things are a bone disc with some designs carved on it and a little gold ring."
"A gold ring?"
"Umhmm. It was inside a ball of clay. When I picked away at it, the ball fell apart and there it was."
"Strange. Though Aled always did have a bent for curiosities— especially anything with an anthropological slant to it. He loved old things — really old things— like Aztec pottery and arrowheads and the like. That weird clay demon-gourd you've got in your sitting room came from his collection."
Something clicked in Sara's mind.
"I remember," she said. "I just didn't connect it till now. I think I met him— just before I went to Europe. Was he the tall, reedy sort of fellow with a big bushy moustache like Yosemite Sam's?"
"Yosemite Sam? Such a lyrical description. For this I put you through college?"
"I never
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