No Hard Feelings

It dawned on Liv pretty quickly that driving a dump truck in heels was not optimal but the idea of being barefoot on these sticky floor mats was unfathomable. In daytime, a woman wearing a puffy-sleeved evening gown behind the wheel of dump truck would have turned heads. But, under the heavy blanket of the evening, only the orange glow of the intermittent street lights may have afforded a random passerby to raise a question or two.

The thought of unlawfully commandeering any vehicle, let alone the neon mammoth that was the dump truck, was not Liv’s first choice by any means. Taxis had flown by and left her whirling in dust and leaves. Buses did not run past 11pm in this neighbourhood and friends were riddled with excuses. Had there been a horse available, Liv would have rather taken her chances with that option, buggy or not.

In a stroke of unlucky circumstance, Kevin had stopped at the restaurant next door to use the facilities. The flashing of the hazard lights on his truck caught Liv’s attention from half a block away. Taller than the other vehicles on the street, it was like that kid in gym class jumping up and down yelling, “Pick me, Coach!”

So, there is was. Available, willing and running.

“Okay Kid, you’re up!” She exhaled as she grabbed hold of the handle to lift herself onto the steel step. The door whined as the hinges opened to let Liv inside.

It was opportunity and the modern age of automatic transmissions that made “borrowing” a behemoth on wheels like this possible (because it’s only stealing if you plan to keep it). She bounced on the couch-like seat as she searched for the driving controls and got ready to put it into gear.

As the brake disengaged and the truck engine roared its discontentment with Liv’s demand for speed, the truck slowly trudged forward down the sleepy street. Liv prayed that she wouldn’t have to come to a stop, turn suddenly or even worse, experience the agonizing wait for the engine to get up to speed from a dead stop again. As she had just discovered, her patience had its limits. She thought that Kevin must have been a patient man to willingly experience this monotonous ritual hundreds of times per day. And she was right, Kevin was usually a patient man, except that night when returned to his truck to find it was no longer there.

____

Grandpa Jean was a worldly man who hoarded everything from memories, ideas, souvenirs to broken lawnmowers. Every nook and cranny he could fill, he did. Protecting his treasures with more treasures. Some worth nothing, at least nothing to anyone else but Jean.

As usual, her grandma complained about the mountains of stuff Jean had accumulated while Jean pretended not to hear her, as usual. In all the Saturdays spent with Grandpa Jean, only once did Liv ever hear him reply under his breath, “Bigger the haystack the harder the needle is to find”.

For a well-to-do lawyer, Grandpa Jean was a rather odd man. Over time, his family was quick to casually write off his quirky stories and easily dismiss his grandiose ideas.

“Oh, Jean.” They would say.

But for Liv, she was always fascinated with these majestic ideas. As a child, she was spellbound by his adventures of travel, eccentric people and exotic places. These tales whisked her away beyond the borders of their city without leaving her cozy spot near the bay window. Every Saturday, he hid a little red velvet covered chest safeguarding mysterious trinkets for her to discover. Magical moments like these fuelled her hungry imagination with colourful ideas as they bonded over their shared love of mystery and of the enigmatic.

While Liv’s siblings became actuaries and architects, she transformed her desire to explore the world and became a travel journalist. She was sailing on a felucca boat drifting down the Nile when she got the call that Grandpa Jean had passed away. Suddenly, Liv’s world had never felt so small.

Weeks later, there she stood in Grandpa Jean’s study, without him.

She swallowed tears as she entered the room that was nothing short of an ode to Jean. Boxes filled with photos, knick-knacks, books… his notebooks. Rare was a thought he didn’t scribble down. After seventy years, there were crates-full, stacked like a brick wall. Liv’s hands shook as she began to leaf through the musty pages. These were the most tangible remnants of man so wise beyond his generation. The rest of the family could have cared less about these. Such fools! An avaricious bunch, while they squabbled over cars, jewelry and paintings, Liv would become the keeper of these string-bound notebooks which preserved his mind, heart and soul.

As she sat down with the next stack of notebooks, one stuck out from the rest. Like the others, it was adorned with an unassuming black cover. But, unlike any other notebook, the page edges were coloured in a vibrant peacock teal. She curiously pulled it out of the pile and opened Pandora’s box.

Detailed inside, was the history of the Circle of Crows, a secretive band of philanthropic mavericks to which Jean had not only belonged, but had led. For all his openness, Liv was surprised to unravel his best-kept secret. And there it was, unmasked on plain blue-lined paper.

All the names listed had been crossed out but two. Beside Jean’s name was his birthday and the second column was left blank. Liv quickly realized that everyone whose names had been crossed out were deceased. And now that Jean was gone, there was only one left. As she flipped through pages, a loose piece of paper fell from the book into her lap.

“Liv, my dearest…

I know you will be the only one to ever open this book and with that, I trust you to carry out a task of the greatest importance to me. Amongst the pages, find a familiar red velvet box and deliver it to the next person on the list. You are the steward of my legacy and I trust you will do what’s necessary.

With love, GJ.”

“Amongst the pages…”Liv repeated. Her eyes scanned the room frantically, puzzled. Then it hit her.

She jumped to her feet and scavenged furiously through all the crates until the shimmer of the red velvet caught her eye. She carefully opened the box to find a lonely cast-iron key.

___

Like Jean, Allistair McHugh was a well-respected lawyer known for his grit, forward-thinking and integrity. A few hours of research online predicted his attendance at the annual Law Federation’s gala to receive a lifetime achievement award.

Liv dressed in her best gown and borrowed her mother’s finest jewelry to play the part Grandpa Jean had cast for her. The warm lights flooded the entrance of the staircase leading into the Grand Ballroom. Liv gracefully moved around the room, socializing from circle to circle. As Jean’s granddaughter, most people remembered her as child and were quick to express their condolences. Perhaps it was sympathy that encouraged them to answer her questions about Allistair’s whereabouts. It was odd that he wasn’t here on such a prestigious evening. As the evening progressed, murmurs of his terminal illness became present in every conversation. Up until that point, Liv had not felt any urgency, but this definitely changed things.

“It’s so terrible.” Uttered one.

“I heard it he had been sick a long time and kept it to himself.” Postulated another.

This was terrible. Liv didn’t have a Plan B. If Alistair died before she could get to him, she would fail her grandpa. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing in her fingers as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“Are you alright, dear?” Asked a kind elderly lady.

“Oh, yes, just a little faint. I think I’ll get some air.” Liv smiled and started to walk towards the exit when she overheard a younger man drop the gold nugget for which she didn’t know she was searching. She stopped frozen in her tracks and pretended to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Is he at St. Yves’ Hospice?” A slender man in a burgundy suit asked.

“Yes, they are just trying to keep grandfather comfortable at this point. It won’t be much longer.”

Liv nodded her head at waiter and kept walking out the building where she threw the full glass into nearby shrubs. That’s when unbeknownst to him, Kevin inadvertently lent his green dump truck.

____

The trek to Kildare Island took Liv across the city, through the bright lights of the downtown core, through plush suburbs and over the Hemingway Bridge that arched over the Kildare River. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tried to maneuver around other vehicles and around tight corners. It was like driving a shopping cart full of groceries in a maze of Faberge eggs. This had been a steep learning curve and to do date, she had only driven over one road sign. All things considered, this was success!

Just when she thought she would never get there, Liv spotted the imposing stone columns of the St.Yves’ Hospice. She dumped the truck a little further up the street to avoid attracting attention to herself by trying to valet a dump truck at an upscale care home.

Liv entered the lobby with poise and purpose as she approached the front desk. It didn’t take much to convince the receptionist that she belonged here and before long, she was headed to Room 34B.

____

In the dimly lit room, Alistair McHugh lay quietly in his hospital bed with his wife sitting by his side, half asleep in a chaise. Clatter of high-heels echoed through the halls like an offbeat metronome. Then the gait fell silent as Liv cautiously poked her head into the room from the doorway.

“I’ve been expecting you.” Alistair said through laboured breaths. Without a word, his wife got up, shuffled drowsily towards Liv, put her tired hand on her shoulder, nodded with a warm smile and kept walking down the hall. Liv slowly walked into the room and began to state the purpose of her intrusion.

“Mr. McHugh, I have something for you that…”

“It’s yours.” He interrupted.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Liv apologized.

“Your grandfather was not only our leader, he was a man of great strength of character. A visionary… A dear friend… A brother.” Alistair paused to catch his breath. He continued, “He spoke highly of you and I see you are just like him. None of my children have that spirit and in good conscience, as the last of the Circle, I know only you can make it whole again. You are the key, Liv and so, the key is yours.”

____

As she had always been, Liv was the keeper of her grandfather’s secrets which were now hers. Alistair revealed that the key opened a large lockbox located at the National Bank, which is exactly where Liv found herself thirty minutes later. She walked down the marble hallways toward the alter-like table towards the old lockbox.

She inserted the key and inside she found wealth she could only dream to possess.

___

Kevin had received an anonymous text that his truck had been located. He found his dump truck parked halfway up a curb. Whoever drove this thing, he thought, didn’t really know what they were doing.

He jumped into the cab and sat on the lop-sided seat. He reached under the seat cover to move the stuffing around when he felt a package. He pulled it out to find a brick of twenty thousand in cash with a note taped to the top.

“She sure runs great. Sorry about the truck. No hard feelings.”