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bathroom, Barbara’s old suspicion and mistrust rose like sick bile in her throat.
    “I don’t suppose…” she began, despair clutching her throat.
    “Barbara! Come here!”
    Richard Caldwell’s voice boomed out, and Barbara hurried to his side. All suspicion disappeared, and the despair fell away as her husband’s arm encircled her ample waist, pulling her toward him.
    “Look at this, honey.”
    This new term of endearment brought a thickening to the back of Barbara’s throat, the place where tears begin, and she knew she would never be able to hear it enough.
    Bending her head, Barbara peered at the jewels in disbelief. “Let me get my glasses.”
    The purple kimono swished expensively as she sailed from the bathroom, returning almost instantly with her reading glasses perched midway down her nose.
    Then, “Wow! Oh wow! Richard! What is this?”
    “They belong to the kids, I guess. According to Sadie.”
    “What?” Barbara was incredulous.
    Sadie nodded. “When … when they had their baths, this was left on the countertop,” she said, gesturing to the leather purse.
    Barbara shook her head. “Are we sure we’re not getting ourselves into something dangerous? This is unreal. Perhaps some … mobsters or gang members staged all this. They could be using those innocent children as a prop or something. We should absolutely report this to the police.”
    “I agree,” Richard Caldwell said.
    Sadie started to leave. But she turned. “Then I’ll let it up to you. I just didn’t feel right without at least showing you what I found. I’ll return to my cleaning now, if you don’t mind.”
    “Wait, Sadie,” Barbara said, reaching out to her. “What do you think we should we do with these two little ones? I don’t know… I mean…” she lifted her eyes to her husband.
    Richard Caldwell acknowledged the questioning in his wife’s eyes with a very small shake of his head. Then he looked at Sadie, telling her that they didn’t feel as if it was the right time for them to be caring for two small children. Did she have any suggestions? If the police were called in, the children would be placed in foster homes unless someone intervened.
    “Would your family be able, or willing, to take them in?” he finished.
    It was a hard question, one Sadie felt unable to answer. Her mother’s mental health had been a real issue in the past. She had found help and resumed a healthy, balanced existence. Aided by her unwavering faith, she was peaceful and happy again. But to require this of her?
    Sadie shook her head. “My mother hasn’t been well, but there is a possibility. We’ll discuss it and I’ll let you know.”
    “Thank you, Sadie.”
    That afternoon, Bertie, the gardener, asked Dorothy if she or Sadie would be available to help him plant the annuals in the garden down by the fishpond.
    Dorothy was taking one of her many breaks, forking cheesy clumps of steaming macaroni and cheese into her mouth from the small microwavable dish in her hand. She washed it down with a resounding gulp of sweet tea, the ice clattering against the plastic tumbler as she set it on the kitchen table.
    “Now, Bertie, I ain’t goin’ down there and breaking my back diggin’ around in that there mud. It ain’t no use. Come September, those plants will be froze stiffer’n my knees, so they will.”
    Bertie waved a hand in her direction, then snorted derisively.
    “Aw, you old grouch. Then stay here in the kitchen and eat your macaroni and cheese. Where’s Sadie?”
    Sadie peeped out of the pantry door and smiled at Bertie, joy in her eyes. She loved Bertie, but she loved the banter between these two salty individuals even more.
    “Sadie girl! You want to help me plant a few annuals down by the fishpond? My old back could sure use some help.”
    “Your old back? Well, why’d ya think my old back would be any different?” Dorothy spat out.
    “I didn’t ask for your two cents.”
    “Well, you got it.”
    Dorothy chuckled