Later

3

The Burketts’ apartment was smaller than ours, but nice. After dinner, while we were having our fortune cookies (mine said A feather in the hand is better than a bird in the air, which makes no sense at all), Mom said, “Have you checked the closets, Marty? For her rings, I mean?”

“Why would she put her rings in a closet?” A sensible enough question.

“Well, if she was having a stroke, she might not have been thinking too clearly.”

We were eating at the little round table in the kitchen nook. Mrs. Burkett was sitting on one of the stools at the counter and nodded vigorously when Mom said that.

“Maybe I’ll check,” Mr. Burkett said. He sounded pretty vague. “Right now I’m too tired and upset.”

“You check the bedroom closet when you get around to it,” Mom said. “I’ll check the one in the hall right now. A little stretching will do me good after all that sweet and sour pork.”

Mrs. Burkett said, “Did she think that up all by herself? I didn’t know she was that smart.” Already she was getting hard to hear. After awhile I wouldn’t be able to hear her at all, just see her mouth moving, like she was behind a thick pane of glass. Pretty soon after that she’d be gone.

“My mom’s plenty smart,” I said.

“Never said she wasn’t,” Mr. Burkett said, “but if she finds those rings in the front hall closet, I’ll eat my hat.”

Just then my mother said “Bingo!” and came in with the rings on the palm of one outstretched hand. The wedding ring was pretty ordinary, but the engagement ring was as big as an eyeball. A real sparkler.

“Oh my God!” Mr. Burkett cried. “How in God’s name…?”

“I prayed to St. Anthony,” Mom said, but cast a quick glance my way. And a smile. “‘Tony, Tony, come around! Something’s lost that must be found!’ And as you see, it worked.”

I thought about asking Mr. Burkett if he wanted salt and pepper on his hat, but didn’t. It wasn’t the right time to be funny, and besides, it’s like my mother always says—nobody loves a smartass.