My dear Kayla and Daren,
This is my last letter to you, and I hope you find it with different hearts than you had when you set out. I always had money during my life, but I did not always have happiness, and I think that was the lesson I wanted you to learn most of all. People are where our happiness is found.
Daren. You are not my son, but I cared for you as such. There were many days I wished that I could be part of your life in a more significant way. I cannot begin to tell you how proud I always was of you, and how much I believe in you. I hope you learn that your value is not in what others make of you, but in what you find in yourself and what your loved ones see in you.
And my sweet Kayla. Fatherhood did not go as planned for me. I wanted to be more involved in your life than I was, but life is not always fair. All the money in the world could not buy back the years I missed as your father. But I always loved you, never doubt that for a moment. Being your father was the best thing that ever happened to me. I have no doubt you will find greatness in life. No matter what dreams you follow or paths you take, I know that you will shine, my little diamond. I will love you always.
As for the two of you, I don’t know if you are still handcuffed together, but regardless, I hope you do not resent me for asking you to do it. I knew, from the moment you were young children, that the two of you knew how to love more than anyone else I’ve ever known. And hopefully, you will use that love to the advantage of your relationship, whether it be for friendship or for something more.
Because money without love is complete poverty. And poverty with love, well that’s pure wealth. I love you both so much.
We turn to stare at each other in the hallway as joy fills our faces. We reach into the safe to pull out the bills and, behind them…
“The box!” I smile broadly and pull out the green box, still wound with ribbon, that Marcella wrapped for me all those years ago. I take the box in my hands.
Kayla gasps. “My locket!” She carefully lifts a small gold necklace from the safe and kisses the heart-shaped locket hanging from its chain. She smiles at the box in my hands. “You got your baseball cards back, I see.”
“I did, but it was never about the baseball cards. It was about the green box the cards were in.” I open the box. Inside are my baseball cards from so long ago, but beside those cards still sits the paperback copy of Holes that Marcella gave me for Christmas all those years ago. “Marcella gave me this when I was a kid.” I open the first few pages to the inscription. “This was what I wanted to get back.
Kayla leans over and reads Marcella’s handwritten inscription out loud, “ ‘To my favorite boy. I will love you forever, mijo. Love, Marcella.’ ”
“It’s the only thing she ever wrote to me,” I explain. “And after she died, I didn’t have anything left of her. But this book was here all along.” I look at Kayla’s necklace. “I’m guessing that’s pretty special?”
She nods. “My father gave it to me and—” She opens the heart locket and gasps. Inside is a note from her father—a new note, probably written just before he died. “ ‘My Kayla,’ ” she reads out loud. “ ‘It was an honor to be your father. I will love you forever.’ ”
She chokes up and I pull her against my chest.
As we look down at our precious lost items and the loving words left for us by Marcella and James Turner, Kayla inhales deeply and says, “Wow. That was the best scavenger hunt ever.”
Nodding, I look at Kayla, in my arms and in my heart, and smile.
Jackpot.
Epilogue Kayla
I dust off my hands as we move the last box of stuff into my new room at Willow Inn. It’s been three weeks since Daren and I found my father’s hidden money, and in that time I accepted Ellen’s job offer as a waitress at Willow Inn, while Daren accepted her offer as her new cook.
He was able to quit his other jobs so he now works full-time in the kitchen with Mable, and I swear he smiles all day long. He can’t stop talking about how he wants to open his own restaurant someday.
The girl who was the prep cook before me, Pixie, now lives in Tempe where she’s going to Arizona State University. And because Pixie knows a lot of people at ASU, she’s going to introduce me to some friends of hers that are currently in the nursing program. Which will be great since I start classes at ASU this spring.
Ellen let me stay at the inn as a guest while she had Pixie’s room repainted. The guy who lived next to Pixie, Levi, moved down to Phoenix as well, so Ellen had both rooms painted yellow.
I also bought a working car so I could travel back and forth from Willow Inn to Copper Springs to visit Daren, whom I’ve decided I completely and forever love.
Daren put his share of the money to fast use, paying off all the medical bills he wanted to take care of and buying a new car for himself as well. As much as he missed Monique, he thought it would be silly to spend so much money on a car. So he bought a truck instead. Overall, things have just fallen into place for us and I couldn’t be happier.
Daren enters my room with a giant box in one hand and a bag of cookies in the other.
“Ooh, I love you, I love you, I love you.” I smile at the cookies.
“Easy, tiger.” He sets down the box and pulls two cookies from the bag.
I look him over with a smile. “You know, I read the book Holes last week.”
He lifts a brow. “You did?”
I nod and eye him closely. “And at the end, the boy who had to dig all those holes finds a lost treasure and all his bad luck goes away. Pretty fitting, don’t you think?”
A slow grin pulls up his face. “I knew I liked that book for a reason.” He looks around my room. “So what do you think of your new home?”
I grin at the bright yellow walls and the new blue bedding I bought for my bed. “I love it.”
He hands me a cookie. “And you know the best part about your room?”
I eye him. “What’s that?”
He grins. “That it’s right next door to an empty room that will soon be mine.”
“Are you being serious?” I smile so widely my face hurts.
He nods. “We’re going to be neighbors—if that’s okay with you.”
“That is more than okay,” I say. “That’s incredible!”
“Then here’s to being neighbors.” He holds up his cookie and grins. “And to handcuffs.”
I tap my cookie to his with a smile. “Here’s to handcuffs.”
About the Author
Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She’s ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.