A KEY FOR REBECCA, by Hal Charles
639 Words
A KEY FOR REBECCA, by Hal CharlesRebecca felt the excitement growing as she entered her friend Kathy’s dusty pottery barn. In three days Rebecca would be celebrating her fifth wedding anniversary, and as he had done every year since their marriage, her husband, Brad, a mystery buff, had dreamed up a crazy way to reveal his gift to her.
One year Rebecca had to solve a rhebus Brad had published in the local paper to learn he was taking her on a trip to Bermuda. Another time he sent her on a scavenger hunt that ended at a jewelry store where she received a beautiful birthstone necklace. As wacky as Brad’s “mysteries” were, she loved them since they brought him as much joy as her.
This year Brad had sent her to Kathy’s place with two pieces of information: the clue she would find would point to one of her friends at the gathering, who held a key for her, and that all might not be as it seemed.
“Rebecca,” said Kathy, leaving a small group of women just inside the entrance, “so great to see you.”
“Brad told me that he’d talked you into helping him with his year’s mystery.”
Kathy laughed. “That’s right, girl. Now follow me.”
Her friend led Rebecca to a well-worn potter’s wheel at the rear of the large barn. Looking down, Rebecca saw the letters MS traced in the dust on the wheel’s flat surface.
“Brad left that for you,” said Kathy. “Now put on our thinking cap.”
Rebecca scanned the room. Brad had told her the clue would identify someone there. Surely the MS couldn’t be a friend’s initials. That would be too easy. Besides, a quick survey of names revealed no match.
Rebecca’s attention was drawn to the group near the barn’s entrance. As she approached, she recognized Joyce Cummings, who was proudly showing her recently published children’s book to the other women.
“All the hard work sure paid off,” said Belle Devereux with the sugary southern drawl that stood out in their New England village.
“We may have the next J.K. Rowling on our hands,” chimed in Samantha Weston, lifting her glass in a toast.
MS, thought Rebecca. Could the letters stand for manuscript, as in book? She turned to Joyce. “Do you have a key for me?”
Joyce smiled. “I’m afraid not.”
Their conversation was interrupted by loud voices coming from a display table to the left. Rebecca spotted Gail Remaley, who was holding forth to another small group.
“Gail,” said an obviously frustrated Stacy Collins, “just because you have a master’s degree in geology doesn’t mean you know everything about everything.”
Rebecca headed for the display. A Master’s degree in geology . . . a Master’s in Science . . . an MS. “Gail,” said Rebecca abruptly, “do you have something for me?”
“Well, perhaps a bit of advice concerning climate change,” said Gail, staring at Stacy, “since nobody else wants to listen.”
“No key?” said Rebecca.
Gail shrugged.
Just as she was realizing that Brad’s mystery was a little harder than she had supposed, she heard Belle’s voice from behind her and turned. “Belle, didn’t you tell us that you’re from Mississippi?”
“Biloxi to be exact,” drawled Belle.
“And Mississippi’s abbreviation is MS,” said Rebecca. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key for me, would you?”
Belle looked puzzled.
“I guess not,” said Rebecca, feeling as if she were missing something. There must be hundreds of things MS could stand for.
Walking toward the pottery wheel, Rebecca remembered Brad’s second piece of information: all might not be as it seemed. She grasped the heavy wheel and gave it a spin, realizing she had solved the mystery.
SOLUTION
Brad’s clue was “not as it seemed.” When Rebecca turned the wheel, the MS became SW, and she knew her friend Samantha Weston held the key that fit the ignition of the vintage Austin-Healey sports car Rebecca had admired every time she and Brad passed the dealership.
- Writer
