They encountered few other cars. Most people were eating lunch. Traffic on Sanpere was never very heavy, except on the Fourth of July when everyone left the parade at the same time for the chicken barbecue. And then they had two auxilliary policemen, each authorized to wear a special armband and carry a piece.
A blue Ford pickup roared past them going the other way, and the driver raised a few fingers from the wheel in the traditional island wave. Faith was flattered. She might almost live here. But what was she thinking of? Tom, that's whom she was thinking of. He had noticed the wave the first day and thereafter raised his fingers, getting a response each time. He liked to be at home wherever he was. She took a deep breath. Labor Day was still a long way off.
“Come on, Pix, right or left?”
The road forked, and each branch beckoned with a claim of its own.
“I can't tell you. It's number eight. The square we don't know."
“All right, we'll wing it and go down each. Maybe something will suggest itself." She turned left, and they drove past a series of wood lots, a few trailers, and one or two farmhouses before the road again split.
“I think we should try the right-hand one first. Remember, Winding Ways with the upper right section indicated comes next, followed by Apple Tree. If we see any sign of apples, we'll know we're on the right track.”
They weren't, and Faith suggested they go back to the original fork and try that one. Pix agreed. "And I thought I was figuring it out so cleverly."
“You are. Keep it up.”
The right turn dipped down toward the shore. The rain had not completely stopped, and as Faith looked at it breaking the surface of the water, she was sure this was the correct choice.
“Look at the water. The waves look just like the square. I'm sure of it—look at the way the wind ripples the surface of the waves." She put her foot down on the pedal, and they shot forward. The road twisted and turned.
“Winding Ways," Pix muttered.
“Ayup." They carne to a fork that showed the remnants of logging tracks, and they stayed on the road, turning right. When they saw the old apple orchard, Pix grabbed Faith's arm. "It really is like a map!"
“Of course it is, and what's more I'm sure the gold, or what's left of it, is at the end. She must have put it there before she became bedridden, intending to tell someone, but then decided this would be more fun."
“Or maybe the gold has been there since her father's time." Faith stopped the car again to have another look at the photos.
“Maybe we should get rid of the ones we've identified and just keep a list of the names."
“I think we should hold on to them. There's always the possibility we've identified something incorrectly, or by one of its other names.”
They sat in silence for a moment, which Pix broke somewhat hesitantly. "It's been a bit like a game up to now. If, a very big if, we do find something valuable, what are you going to do with it?”
Faith realized she had been thinking primarily of the journey and not the arrival. Although from the moment she had seen the spidery handwritten "Seek and Ye Shall Find" at the Fraziers', she'd been convinced it was some sort of treasure.
“Us, not me. Let's get that understood. I never could have identified all these squares without you or known where they led. But I'm sure it's the gold, Pix, and I know you don't just mean we'd never have to worry about our children's college tuitions or wardrobes again. You must have had as much Sunday School as I did." Faith pictured the pin with all the bars for perfect attendance, which grew steadily longer on the lapel of her navy-blue coat from B. Altman's as the hem of said garment kept pace. She was sure there was a similar bijou in Pix's past. Along with all those "Do what you think is best, dear" remarks from parents who would have been astonished if you had. It was a burden that Faith had been endeavoring to unload for some time. Now might be as good a time as any, but she still said to Pix, "You mean what is the right thing to do."
“I suppose I do. Of course, we may never find it." Neither of them believed that for a moment any longer, and the look they exchanged said as much.
Faith continued wrestling. "Probably the morally correct thing to do would be to split it with the Prescotts. Take a finder's fee. Or give the whole thing to some worthwhile cause."
“Legally, of course, I think it would be ours. Abandoned property or something like that.”
They laughed. "I wonder what our husbands would advise," Faith mused. "Representing God and Mammon."
“I wouldn't say that exactly." Pix was a little peeved. "Sam does plenty of pro bono work."
“You know what I mean. I only thought it would be funny if Tom said finders keepers and Sam said give it away."
“This is all castles in the air until we locate what is in that last square."
“Very nice castles, but you're right. Let's get going.”
She pulled out onto the road, and they followed it for almost a mile before another choice presented itself. The next square was North Star and Pix told her which way was north. Faith said a silent prayer of thanks to the Girl Scouts or whomever for the thorough training Pix had had in her youth. The road suddenly plummeted, and they careened up and down two hills. The burned-rubber tire tracks in evidence indicated it was a favorite spot for those island youths possessing cars, and Faith could see why. She looked forward to driving it again herself, slightly faster this time. "Hill and Valley it is," she noted jubilantly.
When the road took them past an old schoolhouse that a summer person had painstakingly restored, they felt the treasure was almost in their grasp. But not quite.
Faith stopped the car again.
“Let me see the next square. Jacob's Ladder? How does that fit in? Are any of the rungs a different pattern? Or does it seem to be pointing a certain way?"
“No, it's all the same. Very regular and there are three possible roads here and all these woods."
“Fern Berry doesn't give us much help either," Faith observed dismally as she looked at the lush ferns, bright red bunchberries, and other bracken that grew along each roadside.
“And we don't know the one after, and the one after that is Shady Pine.”
They looked up glumly at the awning of evergreens surrounding them.
Pix sneezed.
“It looks like it's back to the books and back to the antihistamines for me." She was allergic to ragweed, and this was the worst time of year for her.
“I thought the rain was supposed to drive the pollen out of the air," Faith commiserated.
“So did I." Pix sneezed three times in rapid succession. Faith started the engine. "There are only two more squares to identify now. Even if we didn't name that spiderwebby one, I'm sure it had to do with that ocean view. And if worst comes to worst, we'll go down each of these and look for noticeably shady pines or ferny berries.”
Pix laughed and sneezed at the same time.
“We're in the right spot, though. No question.”
“What makes you so positive?"
“This spit of land is called Prescott Point, that's why." Faith was impressed.
As they passed the turnoff for Prescott's lobster pound, Faith said, "Do you mind if I stop to pick up some fish?”
“Not at all. I'll see if Sonny has any scallops today. Scallop stew is Samantha's favorite.”
Faith parked the car next to the bait shack and tried to keep upwind of the smell. Sonny was at the end of the dock where two boats were unloading their catch. Faith regarded the still-quivering, glistening bodies in the hold with anticipation. The only way she'd ever get fresher fish would be to catch it herself—an unlikely prospect. She selected what she wanted and followed Sonny into the offIce, where he weighed it out. He was a small man, but trim and muscular. His blond hair was crew cut, since he had never bothered to change his hairstyle after his military service. Faith had heard he was the star pitcher and coach for the Fish Hawks. She wondered if he'd given the team its name. As he wrapped the fish, she noticed his nails were bitten to the quick and his hands were red and chafed from his work. He handed her the bag.