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“Mrs. Burton?” I stuttered.
“Yes.” Her voice was tentative. Distrustful.
“I’m Paige. And this is my brother, Will. We’re here to return your laptop.” And to learn about the person who stole it.
She regarded me suspiciously. “Prove it to me.”
Removing my backpack from my shoulders, I fished inside the outside pocket for my driver’s license. I put it to her face.
“Thank goodness!” Breaking into a smile, she undid the safety chain and swung the door open. “Sorry about that. You just can’t be too careful these days. Plus, there’s a penitentiary and loony bin a few miles away.” She studied us briefly and then said, “Please, come in.”
Mary’s house was clean and tidy, though a little dilapidated. There was worn wall-to-wall powder-blue carpet, an array of drab brown-wood furniture with faded floral upholstery, and knickknacks everywhere.
Dressed in a blue chenille housecoat and matching fuzzy blue slippers (she obviously loved the color blue), she led us to her kitchen, a small but cheery knotty pine room with an outdated bisque fridge and range. She gestured to the Formica table and chairs by the window overlooking the small backyard.
“Have a seat,” she said, and now that she was no longer suspicious, I could see warmth and kindness in her crinkly blue eyes. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as Will and I sat down side by side.
“Thank you, but I’m good,” I said.
“The same,” said Will.
“Are you sure? I just made some fresh lemonade from the lemons on my tree.”
Will’s face lit up. He loved lemonade.
“Okay, sure!”
“Make that two.” And actually, I was thirsty.
A few minutes later, Mary was sitting across from us at the table, sharing a glass of lemonade. It was yummy and refreshing.
Pushing my almost depleted glass to the side, I reached for my backpack and retrieved Mary’s laptop from inside it. Carefully, I set it on the table. Will snapped it open and showed Mary it was registered to her.
Her reaction, a cross between shock and joy, reminded me of a woman I’d seen on Antiques Roadshow, who found out the painting she’d bought for five dollars at a yard sale was worth fifty thousand dollars.
“Oh my goodness gracious, I can’t believe it! I never thought in a million years I’d see it again, and on my fixed income—I live off my pension, social security, and small savings—there’s no way I could have afforded a new one. Thank the good Lord you found it!”
I wondered how she could afford a top-of-the-line MacBook Pro in the first place. They cost close to two thousand dollars if you added in the AppleCare protection plan. My question was answered.
“And it’s very sentimental to me. The high school where I taught gave it to me as a farewell present when I retired.”
“Wow! That was generous of them. I’m sorry all your desktop files have been wiped clean.” I’m sure she had important documents stored on it.
“That’s the least of my problems. Fortunately, I had most of my files backed up on one of those Time Machine gizmos. Where in heaven’s name did you find it?”
“Believe it or not, in a trash can near our house,” I lied.
“Where do you live?”
“In Los Angeles,” replied Will.
“Goodness! That’s a long ways away. I wonder if that horrible girl who stole it from me lives there too. I was so foolish to have trusted her.”
My ears perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, back in August—to be exact, the afternoon of Friday, August 26—I heard the doorbell ring and went to the front door and peeked through the peephole. Standing outside was a tall, pretty girl with long dark-blonde hair. She looked to be seventeen or eighteen.”
Tanya? From a sideways glance, I knew Will was wondering the same thing. I refocused my attention on Mary.
