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“For what?”
I study the app. “Let’s do the Shakespeare statue.”
A frown of disapproval creases his face. “Not a treasure you can bring home, and not exactly hidden.”
“A photo will do.” I start toward the door, and he catches up. But when he steers me toward the SUV, I say, “Thought we’d walk up.”
“Kind of warm, don’t you think?”
I snort. “Sixty-five isn’t that bad. Come on.”
The forty-five-minute walk, followed by the geocache search, makes us warm. But I have my photo. A small box nearby contains Shakespeare-related postcards. I take one of the famous Cobbe portrait and leave a small letterpress sheet of Sonnet #116.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Then we walk back to the condo where Sean meets us.
“You look done in, big guy,” he teases Liam.
“Yeah. See you day after tomorrow, Ms. Press.”
“How long have you been here, Sean?”
“’Bout half an hour. Lady came by to see you.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small spiral notebook. “Name of Rebecca Masters. Said you need to give her a call as soon as possible.”
I pull out my phone, which is off. When the screen comes to life, Rebecca’s message is on the screen.
REBECCA: Meet me at Glunz.”
ME: On my way.
REBECCA: ????
