Page 83 of The Man with a Treasure

Clunk. Clunk. “But you haven’t gotten used to your suits.”

Sal and I looked at each other as if Scarlett was mistaken, that taking a nature walk in expensive black suits and fancy shiny shoes was completely normal.

To Scarlett, I explained, “We are very accustomed to our suits.”

“Then why so,” she imitated us, looking like walking mummies.

Of course, that had Sal flinching. “Tell me I don’t look like that.”

“Scarlett,” I tried, but she interrupted me.

“You should try one of Sal’s undershirts. They are very freeing.”

Snarl.

Sal gazed down at his chest, where his undershirt was under a button-down shirt and black jacket. “I’m free.” His lips suddenly pursed as if pondering and not liking what he was thinking. Then he took off his jacket and folded it in half, shoulder cuff to shoulder cuff, then draped it over his arm. “See? I am very free.” His loaded gun holster made it even more challenging to believe.

“If you say so,” sang Scarlett with much sarcasm.

Sal balked. “When did you become such a smartass?”

I grumbled, “I knew she was spending too much time with you.”

“Me? How is this my fault?”

“Because sarcasm is your middle name?”

“It is?” innocently asked Scarlett, as she did her Frankenstein walk in a circle to turn around. “I’m going back to the house. My feet hurt.”

“See?” I snapped at Sal as I turned to follow her. “You made her feet hurt.”

“Angelo! Be reasonable! She must learn to wear shoes!”

“Not if she doesn’t want to!”

Clunk! Clunk! “I agree with Angel.”

“Oh,” Sal replied to her, completely offended. “Fine. Take his side. Follow the stuffed shirt.” He held out an arm and pointed to his perfectly folded jacket. “At least I am free.”

“Free?” I chastised him. “You are too stuck up to be free.”

That touched a nerve. “I am not stuck up. I just appreciate fine things.”

Clunk. Clunk. “Maybe the things you believe to be fine are not.”

Sal and I looked at each other, somewhat not sure how to react to such truth.

Scarlett froze. Tension radiating from her small frame. “What was that?”

I pulled out a gun and bent my knees, turning in a circle with it aimed and ready. “What, did you see something?”

“No. Feel.” A perfect finger wiped at her face. “Water.”

Splat. A raindrop hit my face. “Oh, it’s raining.”

“Wow,” she whispered in awe and breathtaking awareness as another drop landed on her face. “I saw this out the window when a child.”

It is mind-blowing how fast you can be grounded after an argument full of nonsense. I had just been wanting to throttle my best friend. Now, I was in the presence of the importance of life—finding true beauty.