Jillian Chantal

Time for Tuesday Tales. This week, the writers are writing to the word prompt quick. I am working on my buried treasure story.

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“Good point. I’ll take a picture and use an app to see if I can find out anything.” I’d almost finished my cake and set my fork down to take the photo. I wasn’t expecting much but it was a great idea to try to figure out the time frame when it was made. “Do silver hallmarks usually have the date it was made?”

“I don’t think the United States has a year rule about hallmarks. I think it’s just the percentage of silver and the makers mark. I know some companies like Tiffany’s and Reed and Barton date theirs. Maybe Gorham as well. I don’t see a date on this though. Just the 925 and sterling is on this one. And the makers mark is hard to read as it appears the item has been smushed a bit. There’s a small dent making it difficult to decipher.”

“Maybe I can take it to a jewelry repair place and see if they can straighten it out or figure out who might have made it.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you go out to the shed and get your grandfather’s small digger? It’s small enough that you wouldn’t damage anything else that might be there like you would with a full-size shovel.”

“You’re right.  I can’t wait to get back to digging, but I’ll make a quick trip to the workshop and get it. Any idea where it is?”

“Lord, no, honey, that man could’ve laid it anywhere. He’s gone to the bank but will be back soon. You could wait and ask him.” Grandma wiped her face with her apron.

“No way, Grams. I’m too impatient for that.” I laughed, wiped my mouth with my napkin and stood. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Grandma grabbed my plate and fork to take to the sink before I could do it. This was par for the course. Leave a glass sitting at her house unattended and it would be scooped up and washed in nanosecond.

To my surprise, I found the trowel sitting right by the vise at the end of one of the counters in Granddad’s workshop and was soon back under the tree digging away.

The next thing I uncovered was a bit more of the broken wood. This part wasn’t elaborately carved. It might have been part of the bottom. It was in bad shape. Deteriorated and old. “I wish I could date this wood, but there’s no way to tell.”

“Who are you talking to while you sit in the dirt like you’re six again?”

I looked up to see Levi staring down at me with a huge grin on his face.