Flossie said she didn’t care that Herb had gone away. She wouldn’t miss him. Wouldn’t miss the crumbs, mud, and dirty clothes he threw around. Wouldn’t miss his complaining and yacking all the time. She had plans. That money she had buried near the Peonies would take her a long way, too. $2,000–money she’d cleaned and scrubbed floors for. Scrubbed until her fingers bled. That bastard husband of hers never turned a lick at nothing. Lazy SOB. That Sybil would be sorry for running off with him. Lazy good for nothing.
Never mind all that though. She’d be in California soon and none of it would matter. Flossie took the shovel from the shed and walked to the Peony bed. She’d soon touch that money just waiting to get her to California. Flossie shoved her shoe against the shovel, pushing it into the wet clay. Soon she reached the glass jar that held her fortune. Flossies’s heart skipped a beat as she reached for the muddy container. She removed the lid and reached inside. The jar was empty except for a scrap of paper that read, “Too bad, Flossie, I got here first.”