The Package

Willowbrook was your average small town. Almost too average. Nothing interesting seemed to happen there. One day, however, as Mildred was visiting the local bakery to pick up a fresh loaf of bread, squeezing the fresh loaves, making sure Sam the baker wasn’t trying to slip in some of yesterday's batch, her ears perked up. Sam was whispering excitedly in hushed tones to one of his customers. With all the noise of the ovens and fans she couldn't quite make out everything Sam was saying.  Mildred slowly walked over to where Sam leaned over the counter. She paused and pretended to inspect some dinner rolls. The conversation revolved around a mysterious package that had arrived for one John Thompson, the town's retired librarian.

As Mildred absentmindedly picked up a bag of cheese buns, she edged her way to the counter.  

“...and it's really that valuable?” she overheard Sam ask his customer.

“Said so right on the shipping declaration form.”

She recognized the slouching frame of Don Goudreau, the town's one and only mail delivery person, as Sam’s co-conspirator.  

“He had to sign for it and came straight away to pick it up….”  she heard Don respond.   

Sam noticed Mildred milling about and nodded to Don, who promptly stepped back to let Mildred pay for her loaf of bread and buns. 

“Will that be all?” Sam asked.

“Are the pies fresh?” Mildred asked, stalling.  She knew Sam baked them every day, but she couldn’t think of anything better to ask. 

“Yes, Mildred.  Baked fresh this morning.” Sam responded. 

“I really shouldn’t,” Mildred responded.  She had already bought a bag of cheese buns she didn't even want but Sam seemed eager to see her on her way.  Mildred reluctantly paid and resolved to call George as soon as she got home.  Maybe he had heard something.

Mildred had barely finished setting her purchases down before her fingers were rapidly punching the number for her dear old friend George into her phone.  The phone rang for what felt like an eternity and Mildred felt herself eagerly willing George to answer the phone, so much so that when he did answer it gave her a start.  

“Did you hear?!” she blurted out.  

“Did I hear what?” George grumped.   

“About the mysterious package John received. Apparently it's quite valuable, you know,”  Mildred finished relaying the conversation she overheard at the bakery creatively filling in the bits she had missed.  She knew she really should not let her imagination get the better of her.  Her daughter was always telling her so.  

“So old man Thompson got a valuable artifact in the mail, eh?” George asked.  “And you reckon it's some sort of ancient treasure?”

“Well….” Mildred paused “...yes.  I mean what else could it be?” Sensing George’s unease she added, “John was always pouring over maps whenever we had tea at the community room at the library.  What else could it be?”

George wasn’t convinced so Mildred implied that a quick call to Patricia might just be in order.  “If anyone knows what was what, it would be Patricia.”

“Why don't you call her yourself, Mildred Mary Jenkins?” 

Mildred was taken aback by George’s use of her full name.  She could sense his frustration. “Well, because….” she stammered, “I was in the bakery earlier, and I don't want people to think I was gossiping.”

George thought, ironically that's EXACTLY what she was doing, but he didn't have anything better to do and his curiosity had been peaked now.  He agreed to call Patricia and Mildred promised to bring over some fresh cheese buns that she bought just for him.

When George called Patricia, he had barely uttered a word of what Mildred shared before she began speculating wildly.  He had simply asked Patricia if she knew anything about a mysterious object getting delivered to John.  She hadn’t.  But the word mysterious, and the idea that the recipient was the reclusive John Thompson, the town's retired librarian, was enough for wild speculation. 

“My heavens, what need would John have for such an object?” she asked rhetorically. “Do you suppose it had anything to do with those old maps John used to study?”  

Why were these ladies obsessed with John's interest in old maps, he wondered.  After a few more minutes of rather one-sided conjecturing and wild theories, George delicately extracted himself from the ranting of Patricia and vowed not to get involved the next time. 

Patricia, on the other hand, was invigorated.  Her arthritis, which had kept her immobile and in her recliner all morning, was soon forgotten.  She worked the phones like a call centre selling duct cleaning.  Most of her network, as Patricia liked to think of them, hadn’t had any real info, but she would piece it together. She just knew it. 

 Louise from down the street had seen John headed to the post office earlier that morning. She noted John barely stopped for the usual pleasantries when Louise asked him about his gardens.  

Erin Murphy had heard from Mildred that it was linked to a treasure of some kind. Erin was making lunch for her son Aiden and his best friend Jayden when Mildred had called.  With the boys munching away on bologna sandwiches, Erin had eagerly shared with Patricia what Mildred told her.

“Did you hear that?” Aiden asked Jayden excitedly.

“Ya! Old Mr. Thompson found a treasure map, “ Jayden waved his arms to illustrate the probable size of said treasure map.  His eyes were wide with wonder.

“You know what we need to do?” Aiden asked.  

Jayden nodded affirmatively, but he had no idea. 

“We need to steal the treasure map and find the treasure for ourselves!”

“And then we can buy a PS5!” Jayden added.

“And a whole bunch of games!”

The boys hatched a plan to sneak into Mr. Thompson’s house to find the treasure map. They decided they would take a photo of it and then use the map to find the treasure before he did.  But first, they needed a way to get out of the house without Aiden’s mom suspecting anything.  They told her that Jayden forgot his inhaler and they were going to ride their bikes over to Jayden’s house together to grab it. She was surprisingly agreeable but she insisted on no bikes.  “They were too dangerous,” she told the boys.  

Aiden and Jayden knew that it would take too long to walk to Mr. Thompson’s so they devised a plan to stash their bicycles around the corner of the house, made a big production of going out the front door to walk to Jayden’s, and then quickly snuck back to grab them when Aiden’s mom thought they were gone. 

With Aiden’s mom still busy chatting on the phone, the boys had little issue executing their plan. As they rode over, they started to formulate the next part of their plan. “We need to get inside Mr. Thompson’s house to investigate,” Aiden declared.  

“But what if he is home? How will we get inside?” Jayden asked.

“Easy.  You are going to pretend you have something wrong with your bike and ask Mr. Thompson for help. When he goes outside to help you I will sneak in and look around.”

“Why do I have to be the distraction?” Jayden whined.

“Would you rather sneak into Mr. Thompson’s house?” Aiden offered.

Jayden declined, and with that, a plan was hatched.  The boys speculated all the way about what the treasure could be, and whether there really was a treasure map at all.  Aiden’s mom had talked so confidently about it when she was on the phone that it must be real they decided. Aiden and Jayden hadn’t, however, agreed yet on the nature of the treasure before they got to Mr. Thompson’s place. 

Aiden carefully stashed his bike out of sight and hid himself behind a large planter near the front door. Jayden then made a production worthy of an Oscar, dropping his bicycle on the sidewalk out front of Mr. Thompson’s house. He then nervously walked up to the front door. 

Jayden knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited. No response. He then tried the doorbell and a long series of chimes reverberated through the house. Jayden could hear the shuffling of feet and knew Mr. Thompson was coming to the door.

“Why hello there Jayden, what can I do for you?” Mr. Thompson asked, taking off his reading glasses as he looked Jayden up and down.

“I, uh….”Jayden stuttered.  “Something is wrong with my bike. Can you take a look at it for me?”

“Of course. Let me take a look,”  responded Mr. Thompson, shuffling behind Jayden as they walked down the steps to his bike.

Aiden quickly jumped up from his hiding spot and snuck in the front door, being careful to not slam it.  He had to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of Mr. Thompson’s entryway after being in the bright summer sun.  He stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. Aiden spied what looked like a study off the entryway and crept over to the large desk in the middle of the room.  Books were stacked on shelves to the ceiling and lined the entire perimeter of the room. Mr. Thompson’s desk was covered in books too. “No maps here,” Aiden thought.

Aiden could hear the muffled dialog as Jayden tried to keep Mr. Thompson engaged in fixing a bike that wasn’t broken. He began to delve deeper into the house knowing Mr. Thompson could return at any moment, his senses on heightened alert.  The smell of baked goods filled the house making his stomach growl. 

A bathroom, the kitchen, and a closet all proved unfruitful. Aiden then thought, “Why did I even decide to check the bathroom. Who would keep such a precious thing there!?”  As he stood in the hallway mulling over whether to venture upstairs the front door swung open. 

“I’ll just get my tool box and have a look-see —”  Mr. Thompson stopped mid-sentence when he saw Aiden standing there. Aiden froze, not sure what to do.  He should probably explain himself but a lump had formed in his throat. “Aiden, what a pleasant surprise! I thought it odd that Jayden was out on his own. You two are always tied at the hip.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Thompson,” was all Aiden could get out.  Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he stood in front of the very confused Mr. Thompson.  He could see Jayden standing at the doorway behind them with a frightened face.

Mr. Thompson offered Aiden a tissue, and suggested heading to the kitchen for some cookies and milk while ‘they got to the bottom of all this nonsense’.  “So I think you boys have some explaining to do,” Mr. Thompson said, over a large glass of milk, a milk moustache softening the delivery. And with that, the boys retold the story to Mr. Thompson with such fervour that Mr. Thompson had to swivel his head back and forth between Aiden and Jayden as he tried to keep up.

“So there is a rumour, eh? That I have some sort of secret treasure?”  he asked.  A playful smirk spread across his face.  “You do realise the dangers of listening to rumours, don't you?” 

The boys shook their heads in unison.  

“It seems you boys were the victim of some bad intel,” John chuckled.  “Now I really should be calling your parents —”

“Please don’t!” Aiden begged.

“My Mom would kill me!” Jayden added.

“But, then again it seems all the adult-folk here in town are as much to blame as two young adventurous boys as yourselves.”  he added, “You do see the danger in listening to rumours now, don't you?” 

The boys looked at each other, and then Mr. Thompson, and nodded their affirmation.

“Great.  Then I think we can all agree that you two have learned a valuable lesson, here today.”

Again they nodded in unison. 

“So this is what we are going to do.”

Mr. Thompson outlined his plan to trick the townsfolk into believing the rumour.  The boys were to go straight home and tell them what they did. They would then tell Aiden’s mom that Mr. Thompson did in fact have a treasure map, and that it had a large circle representing the town square. 

Before the boys set off for home, Aiden asked, “So what was the special package you had to pick up?”

A glimmer twinkled in Mr. Thompson’s eye and he quickly jumped up. Startled, the boys followed a surprisingly sprightly Mr. Thompson into his study.  He grabbed an old book off his desk and showed the boys.

“This!” he proudly displayed, “is the first edition to complete my Hemingway collection.”

“A first additon?” Jayden asked, confused. 

“No.  A first edition. The very first run of a printed book,” Mr. Thompson gently explained.  “You see, Ernst Hemingway is a very famous author, and a long time ago Mrs. Thompson gave me my very first ‘first edition’.  It was lost and…” Mr. Thompson paused to clear his throat. “...and  I just recently found it again. It's priceless to me.”  He opened the cover of the book to show the inscription. Inside was a note to Mr. Thompson from his late wife.

The boys then set off for home, willing conspirators in Mr. Thompson’s plan, all the more cautious about believing everything they heard.

With the boys off on their secret mission for him, John began to make a list of everything he would need for his part of the plan. He gathered everything, locked up the house, and placed the items in the back of his Buick, making sure to double check his list one more time before leaving.  John then headed for the centre of town.  

He parked his Buick out front of the post office and grabbed his shovel. Ironic, he thought, parking outside the post office, given its source as the origin for such tall tales. First, John dressed a skeleton in some well worn clothing he had found in the back of his closet. Then he slipped a note in one of the pockets. Once this part of the plan was complete, John began to dig a deep hole and put the skeleton in. He then refilled the hole, being careful to make sure it looked undisturbed.

Having worked up quite a thirst and appetite, from all the excitement and exertion, John headed for the local cafe to enjoy a late afternoon snack. He chose his table very carefully so he would have the best view of the entertainment that he was sure would ensue. Very shortly after, the townsfolk slowly began to gather. First Louise arrived, dragging along her grumpy looking husband. Next came Erin with John’s little co-conspirators in tow.  They were followed by George and Patricia. Patrica was especially entertaining to watch. While she usually moved very slowly due to her arthritis, somehow on this day she had mustered up the will to motor across the street toward the old bandshell. Others followed shortly after including Sam, still in his flour dusted white apron and Don, who’s hulking frame was easily spotted even with John’s dwindling eyesight.  When Mildred arrived with a small group from the local women’s auxiliary, John decided it was time.

 He finished the last of his meal, asked the server to keep his table available, and then casually strolled across to the square where everyone had gathered. At first, the small crowd didn't notice John approaching.  They were clustered in small groups, eyeballing all different areas of the square, and speaking in hushed tones about where to start looking for the treasure. In fact it wasn't until John walked up onto the bandstand and stood, hands behind his back, facing Willowbrook’s rumour mill for several minutes that they took notice. A hush came across the square. John cleared his throat.  “Gossip dies when it hits a wise person's ears, you hear?” He then looked carefully around the crowd that had gathered, gave a quick wink in the direction of Aiden and Jayden, descended from the grandstand, and sauntered back to his table at the cafe.

John sat down and began enjoying the entertainment once again. While watching the many confused faces, animated conversations, waving hands, and arms pointing in all directions he wondered if anyone would find the ‘treasure’ he had left.