A Widow's Curse by Phillip Depoy

aside.
    â€œDoes it say what the items of value were?”
    He leafed through several pages, then looked up.
    â€œThis is exciting.” He was a child.
    â€œIsn’t it.” I was deadpan.
    â€œI love research.”
    â€œCould we…,” I encouraged.
    â€œRight.” He filed though the pages until he came to something that interested him. “Right.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œAndrews.”
    â€œIt says here, again,” he began slowly, “that the items were recently acquired—that is, in 1942—and they were as follows, and I quote: ‘a silver coin or medallion; an Indian artifact, possibly Cherokee; a portrait apparently by Cotman.’”
    â€œWait.” I reached for the pages. “‘Recently acquired.’ Then they weren’t exactly Briarwood family heirlooms, including the coin.”
    â€œThat means I was wrong.” Andrews couldn’t believe what he was saying.
    â€œWell, you were right about the idea that the coin might have belonged to my great-grandfather, but this is why I always say it’s best not to rush to judgment. Let me see here.” I read over the papers. “Oh.”
    I could feel the blood drain from my face.
    â€œFever?”
    Becky glanced my way, then whispered to Andrews.
    â€œIs he all right?”
    â€œHe gets this way all the time,” Andrews assured her. “He’s sickly. His first name is Fever , for God’s sake—what can we expect?”
    â€œ Fever ?” She didn’t seem to believe it. “Really?”
    â€œYou know that I just told Shultz,” I said slowly to Andrews, “how I was afraid my family ran the world? And he said, ‘ the world, or your world?’”
    â€œYes.” Andrews had no idea where I was leading him.
    â€œI meant to say that whenever you find out something about your life, it applies to the entire world; and, conversely, anything you find out about the world has direct, exact relevance to your life. Everything in life is metaphorical.”
    â€œI don’t—,” Andrews began.
    â€œWhen I discover some new variant of a folktale, for example, it speaks directly to me, it tells me something about myself, even though I know its intent is more universal. And when I encounter some new insight about myself, I believe it opens a door to understanding the entire human condition, because I am everything, and everything is me.”
    â€œAll right, but I still don’t—”
    â€œThe variant with which I’m dealing at the moment—I mean, I have it in my head that if I can discover why my great-grandfather bought these things at auction somewhere, and what he did with them, I can also discover why and how Shultz’s father bought the coin, and what he thought he was going to do with it. It’s all tied up together.”
    â€œRight.” Andrews still didn’t follow me.
    â€œIf I can find out about this—all of this business with fathers and sons—then I might be able to help Shultz.”
    â€œHelp him what ?”
    â€œUnderstand his father.”
    Andrews started to speak, then sat back in his chair instead. He pulled on his earlobe and nodded slowly, blowing out a soft sigh.
    â€œAnd the more you find out about other people,” he began, looking down at the tabletop, “the more you understand your own—”
    I interrupted before he could finish his thought out loud. “For example, the thing you just read, the part about the painting by this man Cotman?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid you look at the value attached to the painting, and the rest of the page?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    I turned the papers so he could see them.
    â€œIt was valued at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In 1942.”
    â€œJesus.” Andrews leaned in to examine the document.
    â€œApparently, it was the basis of my—what do I call