What a Difference a Key Makes

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A KEY MAKES

By Lori Madigan

Well it’s pretty clear I wouldn’t be here, sitting alone in this small room, if my 14-yr old daughter Dana hadn’t become such an avid K-pop fan. That’s how we ended up months ago at a Saturday noontime concert at our small local theater where K-PLAZE, an aspiring local group, was given the opportunity to perform in advance of the regular movie schedule. It’s important to note that the concession counter had been opened early for the event.

Even though I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it, we had a great time. My daughter and I had always been close, even when she was just a little kid, but we’d become even closer since her dad, my beloved Danny, passed away three years ago. I was so proud of the fine young lady she was becoming, and when we did things like this together I could see the tiny blossoming of what would one day be a rich adult friendship.

And so together we really enjoyed this concert as the performers turned out to have good voices, interesting moves, and even some funny patter in between numbers, all in all thoroughly entertaining. Pretty impressive given the program said the ages for the quartet ranged from 13 to19. And while Dana also appreciated all that, she added as well that they were all soooooo cute. In fact in our second row seats she was just sure one of them had winked at her.

On our way out we waded through a scattering of the usual popcorn cartons, drink cups and candy wrappers. When we were almost to the exit doors my foot touched something that made a slight clinking sound. In the semi darkness I couldn’t really see what it could be. I was sort of reluctant to pick anything up, but since none of those discarded items would make that kind of sound, curiosity got the best of me and so I reached down and came up with . . . a car key fob.

Oh my, someone would be looking for this. I approached the young man at the concession counter to see if he could go on the p/a and ask if anyone had lost a car key. He said he couldn’t but would call for the Mr. Ross, the manager.

As we waited it occurred to me, oh oh, anyone could claim the key, click the opener in the parking lot, and help themselves to whatever car beeped an answer. That’s when I noticed there was a small rose charm on the key ring.

By the time the manager came out a lot of people had already left, but he said he would make the announcement anyway. I asked him to add that whoever responded would have to ID the keys before they could be turned over. He did so and we waited five minutes, 10, 15, and nothing. By that time the theater had totally emptied out.

I asked Mr. Ross if I should leave the key with him, but he seemed reluctant to keep it, saying they didn’t really keep a lost and found. Since no one had responded today and no one had come looking today or before today, I said I would take it and see if there might be anything I could do.

Then something unexpected and actually quite wonderful happened. A side door opened and out came K-PLAZE. I thought Dana would faint as they came over to say hello. But she held it together, saying she now preferred them over even the famous national groups and would not only be their number one fan but also immediately start a fan club.

They then asked about us still being there, and when we told them about the key, one of the young men asked to see it. When he found the car’s symbol on the clicker and key, he said “Let’s see if we can find this car in the parking lot or on the street.” When there were no answering beeps either place he said maybe a dealer could help, or we could even “click through the neighborhood.”

As they were leaving they asked me if it would be OK to have our phone number, and then for any subsequent shows here they would make sure we would have complimentary front row seats. I don’t think Dana’s feet touched the ground all the way to our car, and on the way home she kept saying how amazing it was we found that key because otherwise we would never have met them. But as it would turn out, there would actually be another unexpected outcome from this key saga.

The next morning I called the local car dealer, but learned they had no way of connecting the key to its car or owner. Nuts.

But now Dana and I felt like we were on a mission. Every time we were walking or driving in the neighborhood we were on the lookout for the right car. It was Dana’s job to occasionally use the clicker. We also routinely checked the local paper for a lost key item, and also listed a found key, again noting anyone making a claim would need to ID it.

Days passed, Weeks passed. And while over time our efforts did diminish somewhat, still every now and then Dana would take the key out of the glove compartment and give it some test clicks. And then one Sunday afternoon on the way to the grocery store, and only about six blocks from home, the miracle happened. Answering chirps.

I was glad no one was behind me because I braked so hard that Dana and I strained forward against our seat belts. In short order a garage door went up and a nice looking man walked out. Nice looking, but the expression on his face and his football player build said quite clearly that no one better be messing with him. Behind him we saw the right kind of car.

By that time I had parked at the curb next to his driveway. As he walked toward us I called hello through the open window and said, “I know this is going to seem odd but I think I have your car key.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a matching set. 

I think what also matched was the look of confusion on both our faces. He said, would you click it again. Dana did and all three of us clearly saw the lights blink on the car in the garage. He clicked his key fob and again the car lit up. He then said, “Excuse me a moment,” and headed into the house. When he returned he was holding another key fob that he said was his spare, clicked it and the car answered.

“Maybe,” he said, “some technical quirk put the same code on someone’s else’s key.” I replied, “Well that could be especially since your car is the same make indicated on the key we have.” At this point we still hadn’t shown him our key.

Then I did something I said I wasn’t going to do. But after all, the make of the car was right, the lights blinked, and I had found him rather than him responding to the ad. “Could this possibly mean anything to you,” I asked. “The key we have has a rose charm on the ring.” He seemed to go pale right before our eyes.

“May . . . may I see it,” he said, his voice small and almost shaky. Dana looked at me and when I nodded she reached over and handed it to him. “My God,” he said, his voice still not recovered, “this is my wife’s key. She passed away last year.” “I’m so sorry,” Dana and said at the same time.

“Excuse me again, please,” he said and then went back into the house. When he returned he confirmed that his late wife’s key was missing, and then after introducing himself as Rick Hamilton asked if we would sit with him on their patio and tell him how we came to have this key.

I wouldn’t have been comfortable going into the house but the patio was fine, and besides it was nicely shaded with comfortable lawn furniture, and it was a beautiful late spring day. On the way I told him, “I’m Rebecca Morgan and this is my daughter Dana Morgan.” Rick said “I have a daughter about your age, 13, and your names rhyme, she’s Jana.” To both of us he added, “And a son 15, Alex.”

And so we settled in and told the tale, from Dana’s K-pop obsession, to the concert, finding the key, the announcement in the theater, K-PLAZE coming out into the lobby, our search aided by the performers of the cars in the parking lot and on the street, our posting lost and checking found in the local paper, the practice he had just witnessed of clicking at random here and there in the neighborhood.

“Wow,” he said, “that is amazing, and thank you for not giving up. But I can see why there was no connection before because weekdays I have the car at work, some evenings my sister borrows it while her car is in for major repair, and weekends we’re usually off doing the usual weekend things.”

Rick turned to Dana, saying, “By the way, my son is way into K-pop too and in fact was at the same concert. He would be so jealous that you met the group.” And that’s when it seemed a lightbulb illuminated his face, as he said kind of under his breath, “I think someone’s in trouble.” He didn’t elaborate and we didn’t ask, but a picture was starting to form.

About that time a woman came out of the house who Rick introduced as his sister Pam who lived next door. As we shook hands we looked at each other with an uncertain sense of recognition and then I finally said, “Don’t you work the service desk at the library?” “Yes, that’s it! I’ve seen you so many times, and I believe we even talked on a couple of occasions.”

Pam said how much she loved her job, not only walking distance from home but also to be surrounded by all those books. I could see how this shared passion could lead to some interesting conversations now that we were actually acquainted.

“Well,” I replied, “I guess it’s not surprising our paths crossed, there if not elsewhere, this being such a close-knit community.” “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied.

So, that grocery trip had to wait for another hour or so after Pam asked if we could stay a while, then serving iced tea and her homemade cookies, accompanied by companionable conversation. We all learned a bit about each other, Rick’s job as TV station manager, mine as nurse, the deep roots both our families had in this community and our shared appreciation of all it offered despite its size.

Then this happened. A young boy and girl came up the walkway to the house. “Jana and Alex,” Rick said, “this is Mrs. Morgan and her daughter Dana, some fine neighbors we’ve just had the pleasure of meeting.”

We all said hello and then Rick asked Alex to go get his mother’s car key from her jewelry box. Now Alex took a turn going pale. “Why” he asked. “Well, because I told you to.” “Can I do it later, dad?” And here’s where Rick had clearly prepared for this exchange. “No, now,“ he said. “I want Mrs. Morgan to see that beautiful rose charm.” Alex went into the house, but returned shortly saying, “Ummmm, it’s missing.”

A quirky smile crossed Rick’s face as he said, “Well, I kind of set you up m’boy. In fact the key has been found.” “Oh that’s good.” “Is it” “Well yeah, I guess.” “See the thing is, it was found at the K-PLAZE concert you went to. Alex. Would you have any idea how it got there?” Silence. “Alex?” “Alex!”

“Okay dad.” Deep breath. “So . . . Dr. Kellerman was supposed to pick you up that day for an afternoon of golf and then dinner at the club. Ben was going to pick up Rosa and I and a couple other kids for the concert. But then I saw a chance to take the car, pick up Rosa, go to the concert and . . . uh . . . hang out afterwards, then have the car back before you were.”

After a pause, “So . . . I took mom’s key so I wouldn’t have to remember exactly how to put back your spare. I was heading for the garage when I heard the front door open and there you were. Turned out you were only blocks from home when Dr. Kellerman was called in for an emergency.”

Pause. “So . . . in a panic I shoved the key in my pocket and hustled away from the garage door, heading to the phone instead. You probably remember me saying, ‘Hi dad, just making sure Ben is on time to pick me up.’ And then I did call Ben to tell him to pick up Rosa and me as planned. He was a little puzzled at first but then caught on.” I didn’t want to take a chance on returning mom’s key with you in the house.”

Pause. “So . . . after the concert we all got something to eat, went to the mall and played some games, then hung out at Jackson’s house. It wasn’t till I got home and changed my clothes that I realized the key had apparently fallen out of my pocket. I tried all the places we’d been, but the theater was the only place a car key had been found, but the manager had no way of contacting the people who’d left with it. I was kind of hoping I’d be grown, married, maybe living in another town before you found out it was missing.” We all tried to suppress it, but even Rick couldn’t hold back a hint of a smile.

Mystery solved. Perp disciplined. And almost as quickly forgiven.

I think it started at the iced tea and cookies, and from there seemed inevitable {hmmm, a Pam plan???}. Rick and I started seeing each other and as the months went by like became love, but like stayed around too.

Those months also saw our daughters become inseparable, an evolving warm and “book-filled” friendship with Pam, Jana catching K-pop fever, both girls discovering quite the entrepreneurial spirit in growing the fan club, and, yes, K-PLAZE making good on their promise with VIP seating and back stage passes for all three of the kids whenever their ever-growing tour schedule brings them back to our town or the adjacent city. And Rick is always happy to have them appear at his station.

And so we come to the “here” in the very first sentence. Where I am is a pretty little dressing room, where my mirrored duplicate shows a slightly flushed woman in a stylish cream colored suit, her hair and makeup carefully tended, about to enter a friends and flowers filled hall.

And now it’s time, and as I exit I see the beaming face of Alex and the tuxedo-ed arm he offers me. As we slow-step up the aisle I’m struck by a funny thought and swallow a giggle – can one be grateful to an inanimate object? Because the one I found turned out to be a key in more ways than one, unlocking all the totally improbable events that brought me to this golden moment.

And then, with our blended family beside us and love all around, Rick and I are married. Sometimes those mischievous fates can have some pretty darn good ideas.

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