On a Side Note

Excerpt

Stacy watched a sandy-blond man appear from an open doorway. She couldn’t help but notice his tight-fitting jeans and a red pullover shirt with sleeves that stopped at impressive biceps. As he moved closer, she was drawn to his hazel eyes.

“Hello,” he said.

The slight smile captivated Stacy. “Hi,” was all her mouth managed to produce.

Steve glanced at Barbara. “You wanted something, Mom?”

“Stacy, here, found the note she’s holding shoved into this desk.” She pointed at the pictures on the table.

Steve looked down at the photographs, then brought his gaze back to the piece of paper in Stacy’s hand. “Okay?” he replied, sounding puzzled.

“She’s trying to find out the age of the note.”

He glanced back at Stacy. “Not the age of the desk? Where did you pick it up?”

“Sherburne. The big flea market. I already know the age of the desk.”

“I see. You didn’t think it was written by the same person who built the desk, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“The stationery is expensive. I can tell that from here. Can I see it?”

She handed the note to him.

After quickly examining it, he commented, “Like I said, the paper is quality, but the ink is surprising.”

Stacy dipped an eyebrow. “How so?”

“The thickness of the stock leads me to believe the paper came from the forties or fifties. There is a little discoloration. It was made for a fountain pen. If I had to venture a guess, I’d bet the cover of the pad had a picture of an Indian head on it.”

“From what was written, I thought it might be from World War Two or maybe the Korean War. They fit the assessment of the paper.”

“True, but that’s not likely. It was written with a ballpoint pen. When they first came out, they were expensive. It wasn’t until the early sixties that they really took off. This had to have been during the Vietnam War.”

“But the f’s look almost like the old s’s. It had to have been earlier.”

“I noticed them. It’s only the style of the author, I assure you. He never let the pen leave the paper when he stopped at the bottom of the f curving back and up halfway to make the cross in the middle, again, not letting up from the paper. Of course, you are free to believe what you wish.”

“I didn’t mean to infringe on your expertise,” she said sarcastically.

“Trust me, you couldn’t. I’m certain it was from that timeframe.”

“Then he could still be alive,” she asserted.

“I don’t know. Maybe. He may have died recently and had no heirs to give the desk to. But I think it’s more likely that this Karen sold it out of anger because he didn’t return or returned in a pine box.”

She winced at his statement, but let it slide. “That’s quite a stretch.”

“I suppose. But I’d be willing to bet he didn’t come home in one piece.”

She rolled her eyes. “Must you be so graphic?”

Steve pursed his lips. “Sorry. I’m not into political correctness.”

Stacy grit her teeth.

“Just stop it.” Barbara glared at her son.

“At any rate,” Steve continued, “I seriously doubt they ever married.”

“I think she’s right, though. It had to have been built by his ancestor,” Barbara agreed.

“If you’re interested, I might be able to help you find the family,” Steve offered.