Mr. Trumbull looked up. “Why, it’s pretty little Olivia Paget, isn’t it? And who is your lucky young man?”
“Christopher Montgomery, sir.” Kit held out his hand to shake.
“I just wanted to say that my father speaks very highly of you,” she said. “He says you were a war hero.”
Mr. Trumbull smiled, obviously pleased at the accolade. “Not a hero, but I did my part.”
Olivia picked up a little framed photo of Mr. Trumbull in his army uniform, his chest adorned with a long line of medals. “Didn’t you give Audie Murphy a run for his money?”
Mr. Trumbull looked like he might blush. Audie Murphy was the most decorated man in WWII and he went on to star in some movies.
Kit was standing to the side, waiting to see what she was up to.
“I hate to be a pest, Mr. Trumbull,” she said, “but Uncle Freddy wants a new stove. I was wondering if we could get some prices on something gas, thirty-six inches? I’d ask the salesmen but you know Uncle Freddy, he only trusts you.”
“Sure.” Mr. Trumbull got up. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Anything for Uncle Freddy.”
As soon as the door closed, Olivia went to her knees and started using her nails to pull at the cheap, thin paneling on the wall. “Hand me that letter opener, would you?”
Instead, Kit knelt beside her, put his hands on the paneling, and pulled up. The thin wood came away on one side.
Olivia put her hand inside and reached up as far as she could. She withdrew a long, narrow wooden box.
“What’s in it?”
“It’s full of Mr. Trumbull’s war medals.” She hesitated, then thought, Why not tell? “Alan did it. He was sick of hearing how his
dad was a hero, so he stuck the box of medals behind the paneling, then messed up the office and said there’d been a robbery. I found it years later when I remodeled the office.”
“How about if we let Mr. Trumbull think he found it?” Kit slipped the box back behind the paneling, but left the nails sticking out.
“I don’t know what happened to Alan,” Mr. Trumbull said as he returned to the office. “He was supposed to be helping on the floor tonight.”
“Oh, you know Alan,” Olivia said. “If there’s work to be done, he disappears.”
Mr. Trumbull looked at her in shock, then laughed.
“I bet he’s out playing golf,” Olivia said.
Mr. Trumbull laughed harder. “I shouldn’t think it’s funny, but his mother—”
“Believes Alan can do anything,” Olivia said. Behind her, Kit was doing something with his foot.
“He’s a clever boy but...”
“He’d rather spend time figuring out how not to do something than to do it,” Olivia said.
Mr. Trumbull was still laughing. “Oh, Livie, I had no idea you knew my son so well. Why don’t you come over for dinner some night? Get to know all of us better?”
She stopped laughing. It was as though he was matchmaking her with his son. She knew how lazy he was, therefore she should marry him? Scary concept!
“She’s taken,” Kit said loudly. “Mr. Trumbull, I seem to have stepped on a nail and I can’t move my shoe. I’m caught on a corner of the paneling and there seems to be something under here. Would you mind giving me a hand?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After they left Trumbull’s, Olivia wanted to go home, but when Kit took her hand and led her down the street, she was glad. She was feeling full of energy at what they’d just accomplished. Maybe—possibly—she had broken the tie between her and Alan. Whatever happened now, she might not find herself back with him.
The drugstore was still open and they sat down at the counter. The soda fountain would be removed in the mideighties to make room for gaudy racks of big-name cosmetics.