Once Upon A Fanfic

A/N: Ah, she's back. Have done very little writing while I was away. Perhaps writing for money will happen after I retire. Anyway, this little idea has been in my head for some time. Hope you enjoy! Oh goodness, I forgot the obligatory statement - I own nothing except for my original characters.

Chapter One: Beware the Gift Horse

The musty smelling trunk had been carted and then lugged onto the front porch of the house by the lone delivery man who maneuvered his brown van through the muddy chuckholes that dotted the driveway. No one else was home, so Maree took the too-thin stick and attempted to sign her name on the electronic pad. What appeared on the bottom line, next to the delivery man's finger, was an agitated scrawl. She frowned at the signature but it was soon snapped away. The truck lumbered off, leaving disturbed puddles of water and one large brown trunk behind.

Maree ran one hand over the duct tape that bound the antique chest and wondered if it would come off without taking a layer of brown with it. Her parents often had things they had purchased on the internet delivered to the house but those items always came in large light brown envelopes or cardboard boxes. A small gray tag fluttered in the breeze, catching her attention. Grasping the paper, she read aloud, "To…Ms. Maree DeHaven, 20943 West Admiral… It's for me!" Her squeal frightened the cat sunbathing on the swing at the far end of the long porch. He jumped up and then gave her his most disgusted slit-eyed stare.

"Sorry, Catman," she apologized to the ruffled feline, who immediately sat back down and began washing a hind leg. It's from Boyer, Garcia & Lierz, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Hmmmm. Sounds like a law firm. Santa Fe…don't know anyone from there. Now…how to get this in the house?

The remnants of strappy leather handles were on each side of her package. They had grown brittle with age and hung as they had snapped during some long-ago hauling. She grasped the longest one and tugged. The large case was fairly heavy, but not impossible to move, she decided as it clumsily bumped over the porch and up to the door jamb. Maree lifted the end and tried to pull it in the opened door. Instead of coming along, the rotten leather snapped from its mooring on the box side, sending Maree to an ungraceful landing on her bottom. She hit with an abrupt jolt to her hip bones, and smarting palms where her thrown-back hands had landed and then slid along the hard wood floor. "Damn," she muttered, grateful that no one was around to witness her indignity. A bit stiffly, she got up and surveyed the situation. The uncooperative trunk was now sitting half in and half out the front door. In a new tactic, she squatted and tried to lift it by the edges but they slowly slipped through her already floor-burned hands. After waving her hands in the air to cool the sting, she trotted to the back door and went outside to come around the house. Climbing the white porch stairs, she knelt and attacked the trunk from the rear, pushing at it with her forearms. It slid slowly up over the door jamb, hovered a moment as it balanced between in and out and then thumped down onto the entrance-way rug that protected her mom's greatly admired solid oak floor. Another heave and it was completely inside. Maree worriedly followed, to inspect the floor behind the box for scratches. To her relief, all the small brass corner bumps that served as diminutive feet had landed within the rug boundary and the sacred floor was safe.

Now Maree determinedly grasped the edges of the stiff rug and pulled the box from in front of the doorway, then walked all around the wooden monster and wondered if she should open it now or try to drag the bulky thing to her room. Mom and David would not be back for several hours yet. Thirsty, she went to the old side-by-side refrigerator and pulled a soda from the stack of cans inside. A sit and a sip while I think about this. She did a little sort of dance with her upper body to the rhyme and folded her long legs to the side as she sank down onto the red leather ottoman and faced her wooden foe. Brushing back the ashy-brown tendrils from her forehead, she studied the trunk with eyes the color of a summer storm just gone green with the promise of hail stones.

Maree was rather pretty, but then nearly all girls are pretty when they are young. A freshman at nearby A & M, she found many of her classes mundane and repetitious of what she had learned in high school. That is until she had enrolled in a course in literature. Usually, she changed her mind several times each semester about what her major should be. But this term she was fixated with the idea that the world did not contain a sufficient number of excellent writers. Her fertile and now stimulated imagination had embarked on several fantasies of life as a published author. Book-signings, appearances on television talk shows and a secluded apartment in a big city were all part of the lifestyle she imagined for herself. Not content to merely imagine, Maree had begun researching what major and which studies would best prepare her. She was about to begin launching a web search when she had been interrupted by the honk of the delivery man's van in the driveway.

One sure way to deal with this thing is to empty it!

The utility drawer in the kitchen provided a box cutter which smoothly cut through the silvery duct tape, freeing the truck's lid. After ensuring that everything was loose, Maree stowed the cutter blade and undid the grimy front latch. The metal fastening was bumpy with rust and left grainy stains upon her fingers. After wiping her hands on the thighs of her worn jeans, she levered herself to pry open the lid. It came reluctantly, as the creaky hinges protested at having to open the old mouth that had grown used to being closed. She carefully lifted the lid to the fully gaping position. It hung there, crookedly, on extended hinges. The first thing that caught her eye was an envelope addressed to her, firmly taped on the inside of the lid. A glance into the bottom of the box showed that the contents were firmly stowed beneath air-bubbled packing material. Maree held the leash on her urge to dive under the protective layer and reached for the envelope instead.

Whoever had fastened it to the underside of the lid had taken pains to make certain it would never be dislodged as the packing tape sealed every edge of the paper against the stale old wood. Thick with adhesive, the ribbon finally gave way to her picking fingernails. Quickly, one edge was torn open and a single sheet of folded paper pulled out. The inside revealed the elegantly printed header of the law firm of Boyer, Garcia & Lierz in gilt and black lettering. A brush of fingertips over the name verified that the words were raised.

Looks expensive. A fancy, high-priced law firm…HAS SENT ME SOMETHING!

A chill of anticipation made her shiver as her eyes flashed down to the contents,

Dear Ms. Maree DeHaven,

Please receive this container per the instruction of the last will and testament of our client, Mrs. Rosa Garcia. Within said will, she indicated that this container had been given to her great-grandmother by the late Ms. Sally DeHaven with certain stipulations. Mrs. Garcia made arrangements that after her death, the trunk should be delivered to any surviving female blood relative of Ms. DeHaven and that she had determined that individual to be you, Ms. Maree DeHaven.

We have opened the trunk, per instruction from our client's will and have secured the contents prior to transportation. Upon receipt of your delivery signature, our firm will consider our responsibility to our client discharged.

Sincerely,

Mr. Henry Garcia

Amazing! Who is Sally DeHaven? What on earth has she given me?

Carefully, she began to pull the layers of packing plastic, scattering them on the floor. Fully half the depth of the box was filled with the stuff. Finally, as yet another layer was lifted, she found the contents. Only two items were laying there on yet more layers of the infernal protective wrap, a small black box and a larger package with a layer of brown packing paper rubber-banded over it. She reached for the larger package. Stout rubber bands secured the wrap which looked quite old and fragile. She could see an address in very neat old-style cursive writing, Mrs. Rosa Garcia, 115 Santa Rosa Way, Santa Fe NM. The zip code was partially hidden behind a rubber band. The 'from' part of the address had faded, but Maree could still make out a faint, Ms. Sally DeHaven in the upper left-hand corner. She pulled on the rubber bands to slip them from the package and was not surprised when they simply broke – too old to stretch any more. The wrapping paper was eased off and the young woman held a small, but thick, book in her hands. The cover was smooth pebbly gray leather with a plain silver clasp that closed more of the gray leather as a strap over the non-bound edge. It felt cool and elegant. She pressed and then tugged at the clasp before she saw the keyhole.

Locked!

She laid the book back in the trunk and grabbed the dark box. Not surprisingly, it was taped shut. A quick nick with the handy box cutter freed the lid. Inside, she pulled up a cushion of white padding and there, on a layer of more white, rested a tiny silver key along with what looked like a rock.

A rock? No, more like a shaped stone.

She picked up the oddity, turning it over and examining it in her hand. It was a very plain and brownish rectangle with one short end slightly wider than the other. The edges weren't chipped but rather, finely dressed. Honed. The edges are honed? She wondered where she had learned that word and if she was using it correctly. At the narrow end, there was a small hole right through the fairly thin stone. I have no idea what this is. She tucked it back in the box and picked up the tiny key. Slipping it into the petite keyhole she turned and heard a small click. The silver clasp fell from its post and dangled on the end of the closure. Excited, Maree turned back the cover and noticed how stiff it was to open and the slight musty smell that wafted up from the pages.

Maree scanned the first page. The pale blue lined paper was filled with neatly written words and a glance through the other pages showed line drawings in some of the margins. "Well this is interesting," she murmured aloud and went to plop on the old-but-comfy sofa to begin reading. She stuffed a few cushions under her back before placing the book upon her bent legs.

This is a diary! People used to write things down…their thoughts and what had happened to them. Good thing I learned to read cursive! All that writing must have really cramped their hands. So much better to just speak into your day planner. Mine is great for reminders and interfacing with my appointment calendar. Can't imagine having enough happen in a day that I'd want to make the effort to record forever though, at least not most days. Let's see how you spent your days, Sally…

Over the next two hours, she read about the life of the unknown woman. She learned that Sally was a single, rather alone person, whose entire life seemed to be her career. She worked for a large corporation in the health industry and managed some of their facilities. She had been offered a significant promotion and relocation package. In page after page, Sally thrashed back and forth about accepting the new job. It seemed that she didn't mind moving to the southwest but was concerned about the career track the new job would put her on. Maree thought that the amount of money the company had offered seemed pretty nice, even if it wasn't that unusual by today's standards. She didn't know what Sally's dollar was worth today so she paused to consult the computer on her wrist.

Whoa! How could you turn that down? Did you leave any of it to me? That thought plunged Maree eagerly back into the diary.

Eventually, Sally decided to make the move. It was pretty painless, Maree decided, what with the company paid movers showing up and packing everything for her, then carting it out to some van. Sally boarded a flight and within a short time met her belongings at her new apartment in New Mexico. She didn't exactly spell out in the diary just where this new job was, but it was within driving distance of Santa Fe. The diary spent a few pages telling of the varied art markets in the vicinity and of the excellent hiking in the area.

Sounds nice. A new job in a new place and plenty of money to go with it. I could go for a deal like that!

Maree read on. Sally was the top dog at this new place she worked in, with the exception of some guy she called, "Chief" who was in charge of security. Maree could picture fat, uniformed security guards standing by building entrances. Sally didn't have a lot to say about this Chief, except to note that he and his 'troops' didn't report to her, but to someone at the corporate headquarters.

Sally also seemed very efficient. Her daily writings detailed some of the systemic organization she had put in place. She called her new place of work, 'The House' and although it was run by her company, it seemed somehow separate and owned by Sally. Maree figured it was just the attitude of a woman who greatly enjoyed her job and, in turn, was possessed by it.

The diary went on, the daily account of ordering things for the House, hiring employees and running some kind of drills. Sally seemed responsible for everything: safety, furnishings, medical supplies, personnel, even the food. Nothing seemed to escape her comment. The entries had settled into almost daily postings about things that were becoming predictable and Maree was getting a bit bored with it all.

Come on, buy a boat! Oh, yea, it's the desert. Well then, get a boyfriend, do something INTERESTING!

Maree resorted to skimming through the next few days' worth of entries until she found words that made her brow furrow and her eyes narrow in disbelief. Backing up, she reread through the days that she had rushed until she returned to the amazingly matter-of-fact entry –

'Aliens are finally coming tomorrow. I am going to meet them and I am not afraid.'

What the hell? The image of a woman crazed by overwork swam through Maree's mind. Did she actually believe this? How many days worth of writing will there be until they haul her away? I mean, everyone knows we made contact with other intelligent life. But it happened just before I was born, and they were never Here. They never came to Earth! And…and how could Sally have written about something so profound…so calmly?

"Oh, me? Well, yesterday I hired and trained two new employees, then went to the grocery store on the way home. Today, I tried my new lipstick and tomorrow, I'm greeting aliens." Maree gave a mocking voice to the ridiculousness of the situation.

Over two hours had passed, and Maree was completely absorbed in the hand-written book when the sound of the garage door rolling up alerted her to the return of the car. She reluctantly stopped reading and, after carefully placing the book on the ottoman, went to the kitchen to greet her mother and David.

"Hey Mom," she smiled, "Need some help with all that?"

"Sure honey," her mother struggled through the door with her arms full of bags of groceries. Maree hurried to take some of the load and sat it on the counter top. David came into the kitchen lugging the last of the day's shopping.

"I think we bought the store out," he joked. They all worked together to put everything away, meat and fresh produce to the refrigerator, canned and boxed goods to the pantry along with the reusable shopping bags that were hung from a hook.

Maree helped to secure the week's food and waited for just the right opportunity to tell about her delivery. It was going to have to be soon as everything had been put away and David was beginning to start supper. He was an excellent cook and enjoyed preparing food for the family. Her mother was pouring herself a glass of wine and just about ready to head for the office corner of the living room with the day's mail in hand. To heck with waiting for just the right melodramatic moment, it was now or let her mom walk in on the still open trunk.

"Uh, I had a surprise today," Maree announced, teasingly.

"Well, share with us," David put down his chef's knife and looked at her with anticipation. That was something she really liked about him. Whatever you were talking about, he really listened. He actually stopped whatever he was doing, looked you in the eye and listened to your words. Her mother, on the other hand, continued sipping wine and shuffling through the mail in her hand whenever she placed the glass back down on the counter.

"Did you hear me, Mom?"

"Sure, I did, honey. I'm waiting for you to tell me what happened." She finally rested the mail and gave her full attention.

"I got a delivery today, just for me, from an attorney in Santa Fe, New Mexico! It was a huge old box and it used to belong to a woman named Sally DeHaven. She left it to me in her will and I'm her youngest living woman relative! Can you believe that? Do you know who she is…was?"

Her mother looked surprised when the name of Sally DeHaven came forth. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'o'.

"So you DO know her Mom! Who is she?" Maree's excitement grew.

"That's great, Maree!" David broke in enthused, "What's in it?"

Ignoring her previous question to her mother, Maree gestured, "Come to the living room and see!"

They followed the girl to the rather moldered trunk where it sat, still wide-jawed, in the middle of the living room. She showed them the diary and the strange lean stone with the hole in it. "May I see that?" She handed the artifact to David, who turned it over in his hand and felt the worked edges with a finger.

"Do you know what it is?" Her hope rose, David was well educated.

"I'm not sure. It's manufactured. But it's not a spear head or knife or scraper – no sharp edges anywhere. The hole is interesting. I wonder if it was meant to be worn?"

"Like a pendant?"

"Maybe, or at the waist."

"That's a super idea! I'm going to use it for a pendant!"

Her mother had been skimming through pages of the diary. "This is…most unusual. Some of it is rather explicit! I'm glad you're in college and didn't get this when you were, oh, sixteen!" Her eyes sparkled at her daughter. Maree loved the sparkle in her mother's eyes. She winked at her, "Well, if you have any questions about what you read, be sure to ask me!"

"Mom!" Maree was turning a little pinkish now. She and her mother were very open about life to each other, but Maree was also very private. To hear her mom joke about sex in front of David was a little uncomfortable.

"So who was she, Mom?"

"I heard about her from your Dad's grandmother a long time ago." She sat down on the sofa and David sat beside her. Maree squatted on the ottoman, her chin resting in her scruffed up palms as her elbows poked into her knees. Her mother went on, "Sally was your father's grandmother's great aunt. So you go ahead and figure out what that makes her to you! Anyway, the story goes that Sally was some kind of businesswoman in the health field. Not a nurse or a doctor, but some kind of business person. She ran a huge complex that was built out in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico. It was all hush-hush top secret. She simply disappeared one day. No one knows what happened. A body was never found, she left no note or call to anyone and nobody ever saw her or heard about her again. That is until this showed up for you today! Your father's grandmother thought that Sally went crazy and was institutionalized somewhere and that the family made up the disappearance thing to save face."

"Wow!" Maree replied. "We have a real character, a person of intrigue in our own boring family!" Her mother raised an eyebrow at the word, 'boring', but settled herself with another sip of wine.

"Was there any explanation with the trunk?" David wondered.

"Oh, yes! I nearly forgot!" She handed the letter to David who read it quickly and passed it on to her mom. Her mother read it and then read it again.

"Well that's interesting! I wonder who this Rosa lady is and how she was connected to Sally? Looks like you have a real mystery on your hands, young lady! What do you want to do with the trunk?"

"It'd be interesting to have in my room, but it smells bad."

"Let me see if I can clean it up," offered David.

"You're the best!" Maree chimed at him.

"I know," he winked. Her mother rolled her eyes but ran a hand over his, giving him a meaningful look.

"Do you guys mind if I read until dinner?" Maree asked, hoping David didn't need her to help with anything. He didn't and she tore up the stairs, book in hand, to land on her bed and find her place.

She read until dinner and then joined the family at the table. It was one of David's specialties, pasta Primavera. She usually relished the spaghetti lovingly dressed with green vegetables and Parmesan with warm crusty white bread on the side. This evening, she inhaled her food, barely tasting it, anxious to return to reading.

"A good read, eh?" Her mother remarked, sort of suppressing a grin. "I just browsed, but parts of it looked pretty racy to me! And with pictures, too! But such muscular men! Looked to me like she had good taste!"

"Mom! You are embarrassing me." Maree tried to maintain her dignity. Her mother, although she knew that her daughter was no prude, also knew of her limited experience and her preference for guys who were athletic and fit. Still, it wasn't like they were having dinner alone.

"Sorry, honey. You know when you're done with it, if you don't mind I'd like to give it a read."

"Uh, sure Mom." Maree excused herself and dashed back up the stairs. Re-fluffing her prop of pillows on the bed, she again assumed the position, found where she'd left off and continued. She read on and on, only occasionally shaking her head or pursing her lips in disbelief. She looked at the pictures and returned to the words again and again.

Sally was indeed prepared to meet aliens. In fact, the entire place was prepared just for aliens! It was some kind of health facility. Maybe a spa? Maree wondered. Sally's writings had been for herself, so there were no explanations to Maree's questions. She would simply have to read on and try to figure it out. The place certainly seemed luxurious. There were a few descriptions of palatial sized rooms, marble, leather, even fur blankets! It had to be some sort of spa or retreat, she concluded.

As the boss of the place, it seemed that it was Sally's duty to meet any incoming guests. An alien ship landed with the first visitors to the House and she had greeted them with all diplomacy. Only one had stayed though, which puzzled Maree. It was the oldest alien. Maybe he needed some rest, health food and massage, she speculated. Sally had gone on to write despairingly about forgetting to invite the rest of the aliens for some hospitality.

Aunt Sally, I'm sure you were shaking in your boots at meeting these creatures. I don't know what they looked like, yet, but you did refer to them as tall. Don't be so hard on yourself!

Finally, it was late and the words began to run together in her vision. She placed the book on her nightstand and got ready for bed. "Sally, you were either the most amazing woman in the history of Earth or you were a totally bat-shit lady! And to think I'm your great-grand-something-or-other!" After some tossing, Maree finally slept fitfully with scattered dreams of a woman who lived long-ago, if the diary could be trusted, and had done something unbelievable.

She overslept the next morning which caused no great alarm. It was summer break between classes, and she was free, only earning a little money helping a friend out in her antiques shop in town on the weekends. Weekends! She yawned and stretched, blinking her eyes in the light peeking through her curtained windows.

Sally! She remembered yesterday's delivery and the odd diary that she had begun reading. It was tempting to grab the book and try to sneak in a few words before going to work, but Maree knew better. Once she started reading, time would cease to exist and she would be late and disappoint the friend who employed her. Sally, you'll just have to wait.

Up in a flash after blearily reading the time, she showered, dressed and ran fingers through the layered, twining curls that formed her mane. With no time for breakfast, she was out the door with a travel mug in hand before she bothered to notice that she had a few sore muscles from trunk wrestling the day before. A solid plunk of her bottom onto the driver's seat was met with a painful reminder of her fall. Placing the travel mug into its holder, she examined her palms and found them not red at all, only a little sore.

My butt will heal. Did Sally have an ample behind? Who knows, she doesn't describe herself.

The ancient Chevy started up and was carefully turned and nosed down the bumpy drive. Maree knew that it never paid to hurry this part of the trip as the driveway chuck holes would bounce you into the car top if you weren't careful! Equally carefully, she drove the short distance to the downtown area of the little burg, and parked just off the service alley behind the shop. Trying to pick her way through the mud of the makeshift parking lot, she worried about how much mud the crevices of her walkers were picking up to subsequently deposit on the shop's floors. She always felt terrible if she forgot to take off her shoes and bang the mud out of them before tracking into her friend's store. Sometimes she'd even had to rinse the bottoms off in the bathroom sink before replacing them on her socked feet. Her friend thought such shenanigans ridiculous and pointed out that the dried shoe crevice leavings were easily swept up. Thanks, Mom, for instilling fear of floor filth in my very being!

Maree quickly opened the little store, turning down the air-conditioning, turning on all the lights and unlocking the front door. It was just ten-o'clock and few customers were walking the pavement outside. She went back to the long counter that held the cash register and looked for any notes or instructions from her friend. There was one with a corner secured beneath the square crystal dish that was used to hold the store's business card. It read, 'Morning! There are boxes with some fabulous new stuff in the back. Would you mind redressing the window? Please? I know how you hate it! Love, Jen'

Maree laughed. Jennifer knew how much she loved redoing the window, and with new stuff at that! She hurried to the back and found a stack of boxes neatly loaded on a flat cart. Pulling it to the front, so she could keep an eye out for customers, she began cutting the boxes open and carefully unpacking them. Her friend frequented estate sales and auctions and had a knack for getting interesting and beautiful things at good prices. They had a bargain that in the future, when Maree had her own home, Jen would take her along and get the very best deals for her.

Things that have been used and loved and have personality!" sang inside Maree as she lovingly unwrapped the past from its tissue and newspaper. She unwrapped six delicately stemmed wineglasses, uncounted colorful pottery mugs, an appealing but scrawny Christmas tree fashioned of paper wrapped wire branches and light green feathers, three round wooden pantry boxes, a primitive cloth cat doll along with its piglet friend and a bevy of embroidered textiles. Nice haul, Jen! The tree's not quite my style though. I'll put it over with the rest of the Christmas crap. Maree smiled inside. Her friend always cringed when she called the lovely display of holiday ornaments and trimmings, "Christmas crap".

She proceeded to clear out the existing window display, placing the items back in appropriate places, before she started to address the new artful scene. Her work was interrupted by the chime that meant someone had entered. She looked up to see one of the shop's regulars coming in. "Morning, Mrs. Culbert!" she called.

Mrs. Culbert looked around sharply through the glasses she balanced halfway down her thin nose, "Ah, there you are! A good morning to you!"

"Can I help you find anything?" Maree asked politely, already knowing the answer.

"Oh no. Just looking."

"Maree turned back to her window; I bet she knows the contents of this store better than I do! I've got about fifteen minutes before she asks a question. She unfolded a tablecloth and arranged some place settings on the small cottage table using the stemmed goblets. Some of the new embroidered linens were eye-catching and a low arrangement of silk roses stuck inside a trio of the pottery mugs complemented it all. She was completing her work laying out small gatherings of things here and there when, right on time, Mrs. Culbert approached her.

"Dear, can you help me with this?"

"Sure!" Maree climbed down out of the window and set to assisting her customer. About half an hour later, a satisfied Mrs. Culbert left the shop, laden paper bags in hand and Marie was able to complete the storefront display. The rest of the day went quickly, with quite a few customers. It was always busier in the summer. The cash register tablet accounted for much more than it had begun the day with and a satisfied Maree was tidying up when the last customer of the day set off the chime. A dark-haired young man with greasy hair entered and looked around.

"May I help you, Sir?"

He approached the counter that Maree was behind and looked nervously at her. He carried a sack and set it on the countertop. "Yes. I inherited this and wondered if I could sell it to you."

"Oh, I'm not the owner, Sir, and she's the one who buys. But let me take a look and I can probably tell you if she'd be interested," Maree said, knowingly.

He spilled the sack contents out on to the counter – a little pile of tangled necklaces, a bracelet and some earrings. "I dunno what any of this is worth, but it's old. She was old, my grandma, when she died."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Maree countered. "May I handle this?"

"Sure," he shifted around, still uncomfortable. She wondered if he had to go to the bathroom or something. Then she saw that his eyes were filled with tears. It broke her heart.

"This looks really interesting. This is a real cameo and these are real pearls," she felt their smoothness. "I think that the owner would make you an offer. Can you come back Tuesday?"

His face fell, "I was hoping to sell them today. I…I need the money."

"Well, I'm so sorry she's not here. How about if I call her? Maybe she can make arrangements to meet with you another time this weekend. Do you have identification?"

"Okay. Please do that. I can come back this evening, or tomorrow." The man held up his arm and placed his wrist band on the identification machine. His face, name, address and everything else about him popped up on the counter viewer.

Maree dialed her friend and soon her face appeared, "Hey, Maree! Any problems?"

"No. There is a young man here with valid id…" She explained the situation and then showed the jewelry to her via the phone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jenn explained through Maree's wrist that was held up before the young man's eyes. "Cameos and pearls aren't very popular right now. I suggest that you go to the jeweler down the street. He might be able to buy them from you. Or you could try a pawn shop."

"Thanks anyway." The man looked downcast.

"Well, we tried," Maree said, apologetically. "Tell you what - I need a good chain to hang a pendant from. I'd buy the thicker chain from you. What do you want for it?"

They haggled for a few minutes and finally settled on a price. After pressing the back of his wrist to hers, money was transferred. The man left the shop with a little smile playing on his unhealthful features and Maree was pleased to have a chain for her stone pendant as well as to have helped the seemingly needy stranger. She locked up, turned off the lights and hurried home to dive back into Sally's record.