365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

334. Sweet Talk

334. Sweet Talk: Write about trying to convince someone of something.

This might as well be a continuation of 333... There's so many story ideas I've stored in this book that I worry I'm going to forget all of them!

*

Robert DeLange passed his hand over his face, leaning back in the saddleback chair, trying to absorb everything his grandmother had just told him. It was almost too much to process, that one of the "greatest bank robberies ever made" had a reasonable explanation to it. Well, maybe not reasonable -- but an explanation that fit in with the facts of the case. Even more unbelievable was that his grandmother played a pivotal part in it.

"Grandma," he said helplessly.

She waited patiently.

"It’s just..." he was at a loss.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" she agreed.

"A little bit." He sighed. "I don't know what to say. Can you prove any of this?"

She cast him a reproving look. "Some things can't be proved, Robert. I already told you I lost all of the other gold."

"Lost," he said with a snort, making air quotes.

"Okay, so I sold the rest of the gold. It's why he gave it to me. To sell it. I needed the money and maybe it wasn't the most moral way to get it, but would you have done any different had you been in my situation?"

"Yes," he said baldly.

"Well, this isn't a question of morals," she said peevishly. "It's about if you believe me or not."

Did he? Robert stared at his grandmother. She had always been a bit on the odd side, more modern than either of his old-fashioned parents. When he was younger, he thought that made her cool. As a teenager, he thought her a bit kooky, but in a good way. Now, as a new adult making his way through a prestigious law program, he settled on calling her eccentric. That was a good word. It was an appropriate word.

Her story was "out there." If everything didn't match up so well, he wouldn't entertain even a doubt of what she said happening. Yet it all did fit, and that astonished him. As someone who had always relied more upon reason than feeling, the facts of her story stumped him. Was it unrealistic? Yes. Was it possible? Also yes.

Did he believe her?

"I don't know, Grandma," he admitted. "It’s just... kind of shocking."

She nodded crisply. "Understandable."

"Does mom know about this?"

"She knows parts of it, but not that it relates to the Newford bank robbery. Your mother isn't quite... prepared to hear that sort of thing," she phrased delicately.

That was certainly true. He glanced at his watch. He had missed his class, but in light of what he had just learned, that didn't matter so much anymore.

"Some things can't be proven," his grandma said again. "Haven't they taught you that at your law classes?"

Yes, they had. It was one of the things he had trouble accepting.

"Think about it," his grandma said. She hesitated and then drew out of her necklace. A large locket was on the end of it. "Take this. Maybe it'll help."

She drew it over her head and placed it in his hand, a tad bit reluctantly. Her neck looked bare without the familiar gold chain.

It was a simple enough locket, but surprisingly heavy.

"Solid gold," she said, noticing him weighing it in his hand.

He shook his head. It had to be worth thousands. "I've got to go," he said, and slipped it into his pocket. He actually didn't have any appointments, having missed his class, but he needed time to think.

"Okay," his grandma said. She looked at him steadily. "I think you'll figure it out. You’re a smart boy."

He knew he was. It was his reliance upon solid fact that tripped him. "Bye, Grandma."

"Goodbye, Robert. Good luck."

The weight of the locket in his pocket would be a constant reminder of his grandmother's story. He shook his head and left the tiny house.

His grandmother had caused a bank robbery. How would he reconcile that to his reality?