I stood near the window so the sunlight could shine on the small item in my hand. Its gold paint was almost rubbed off and the loop of once-red ribbon, tips glued between the half shells, had also faded into a pinky grey.
No wonder; by my calculations that gilded walnut had to be at least 65 years old. I remembered very well where I had seen it first-at the Washoe diggings, when Annie O'Toole and I briefly had been partners in a so-called restaurant, before I managed to free myself from the arrangement. Admittedly, it was also before the Comstock Lode's silver had turned everyone into sharks, criminals, or greedy capitalists with armies of lawyers. Back in those days Pa's good judgment could smooth out most of the miners' disagreements, and if that wasn't enough a good fistfight settled any quarrel. To be honest, we three Cartwright boys were in the middle of it often enough, and enjoyed it.
Still, a troublesome time, as I said:
"You robber, you Chinese sneaker 'n' robber, you … you. Give it to me. Don't you dare not give it back. I'll shave you and give you a haircut with this very skillet, you robber."
"Mistel Cahtlight, this woman clazy, vely clazy. You ask me help her but she try kill Hop Sing. Hop Sing not clazy, he quit. Not a fool. Only fools work for Cahtlights or their friends. Good bye! Go back to China," Hop Sing shouted as he ran around the corner of the restaurant tent and saw me. Right behind him came a furious Annie, swinging her largest skillet and yelling equally loudly, "Adam, tell him he has to give it back! Tell him! Give it back, you robber!"
In that moment I knew how grain feels to be between the millstones. Hop Sing, now screaming in Cantonese, was on my right side, and with my left hand I had managed to grab Annie's weapon arm. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, both of you, please," I tried my best to de-escalate the situation. "There must be a misunderstanding. I know you, you are both honest people, not robbers-and not murderers." When I heard a grunt from my right and a snort from my left I dared to release Annie's arm. "What is all this about? What's that you're holding, Hop Sing?"
"Nutmeg grinder." He brandished the thing wildly, nearly poking my eye out. "Hop Sing need grind nutmegs and find this-this stupid thing in box. Hop Sing not fool, never grind golden walnut. But what for such foolish thing in nutmeg box? Not place for it, no can eat it! Not put things where they don't belong!" When Hop Sing held out the gilded nut in his other hand, Annie snatched it and quickly dropped it into her corset.
"'Tis not your concern where I put my things!" she retorted, stroking back a wisp of hair pugnaciously.
"Yes, because Hop Sing quit, not work in such a kitchen, not with clazy woman, not with Cahtlights." Hop Sing stripped off his apron, flung it on the ground, and stomped back around the corner.
Fortunately, I knew he couldn't actually leave the camp without transportation, so I decided to deal with Annie first.
"Annie, please, tell me, what's the meaning of that walnut?"
"He dinnae gave it back to me! He say things in that strange tongue of his and looked all mean, with that big grinder in his hand."
"Oh, Annie, Hop Sing was only upset that something was in the wrong place. I know him; he is very orderly in his kitchen."
"Do you think so, Adam?" Annie looked almost sheepish.
"I know so. But why was this painted walnut there in the first place?"
"I hadnae better place, Adam. When Himself and me set out for here we couldn't fit but so much in our wagon. So I put the walnut in the box with the nutmegs where it was dry and safe. Dinnae want to lose it." Annie plopped down onto a bench and I settled next to her.
"Would you like to tell me about that walnut, Annie?" I put my arm around her shoulder.
She nodded. "Adam, look. Himself was the best father you can think of but money dinnae remain in his pockets for long. But one Christmas, I think the year after mother died, he gave me this golden nut and said 'Annie, this is something from the high and mighty people, they paint these nuts gold and put something special in them, and then they put 'em on their Christmas trees, and when it's time for the trees to come down their little'uns get these fancy nuts and all the treasure inside. I bought this one for you, my lass.' " She smiled, lost in memories. "Later I found out he hadnae bought it in a store, he won it in a poker game…Adam, don't make that face of yours, you sniffer-blood!" Annie pushed me away.
"Annie, I never…."
"He won it for me, that's worth even more than if he bought it. Himself was a lousy poker player-the best trapdoor jumper on the Barbary Coast, but the worst poker player. But he played for it and won it and gave it to me."
I nodded my approval for his great achievement. "But, Annie, why have you never opened it?"
"Never dared to," she shrugged. "Often I'd lie in my bed and be dreaming about what could be inside, maybe even a golden robe like Cinderella found. As long as I had my nut I had something to look forward. Maybe…"
"I understand, Annie." I remembered very well how as a child I too had dreamed, in so many strange, cold places, of the home we sought after for such a long time and how it comforted me. "I really do understand." I gave her a kiss on the forehead. "But now we have to decide what to do about Hop Sing."
Annie gathered up Hop Sing's apron from the ground. "I know, Adam. I reckon I have to apologize." Which she did, handsomely, and in return Hop Sing gave her a little wooden box with Chinese letters to protect the keepsake of "honlable fathel".
From that day forward she kept the walnut's box on her nightstand, until I came to open it – now that Annie had passed away after a long and happy life. Swede had died more than fifteen years before and after that Annie had turned her wealth and her grand house to excellent use. She built a little schoolhouse on the estate and converted the second floor of her mansion into a dormitory. She also established a foundation that would last a long time after her death so that indigent girls could go on being "learned to read and write." What was more, Annie had herself taught the pupils how to cook and do calculations. Later she opened a small restaurant where the girls could practice what they learned, and because I had helped her design and build the school she made me a partner again in her restaurant. It doesn't earn me money, but I can eat there for free, and sometimes they even cook dishes Annie once learned from her friend Hop Sing.
I rolled the gilded walnut over my hand. Should I open it now? What could be inside?
At that moment one fleck of gold reflected a sun ray and the walnut sparkled like a real nugget. I looked up at the sky with an embarrassed smile. "No, Annie, I didn't really want to."
Before her coffin was closed I laid the little box with her treasure in beside her, where it had been for such a long time. It seemed the only right thing to do.
While Kevin O'Toole had had a big funeral, and Swede Lundberg an even bigger one, Annie's was the biggest of all, a funeral a real English lady could have been proud of.
Even more important: All who attended it—the friends she had made over more than a half century, the officials and dignitaries of the town, the other mine owners and the workers, her pupils, even the son of trapdoor Gregory Spain and not least me—had to laugh between our tears while we swapped memories, as we remembered our beloved, unique, quick-tongued Annie, and her antics.
You willnae be forgot, Annie O'Toole-Lundberg! You will forever live in our hearts.
Many thanks to Sandspur and Sklamb for helping me with Annie's Irish and my English.