Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

never knew why.
    I was about to find out.
    The next morning, Christmas Eve day, we drove out to Lancaster to Pete’s dad’s place. Pete’s brother was in from New Mexico, and we were going to spend the early part of the day with Pete’s family, then come home and have our own Christmas together, just the two of us. Then, tomorrow, we’d drive down to Oceanside for Christmas with my family.
    The day started out cold, but it would warm up enough to grill, which was the plan. We were responsible for the veggies, which we’d just gotten at the farmers’ market on Saturday and were sliced, ready to grill, in a cooler in the back of the Jeep. I was a little apprehensive. I hadn’t seen Pete’s dad or brother since Pete and I had gotten back together, and I hadn’t seen them enough at all in the past to have any idea what they thought of me. Pete wasn’t worried. “They like you fine. Better than Luke, actually.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. When I told my dad I was seeing you again, he complimented me on my good sense.”
    I laughed. “What did he have against Luke?”
    Pete shrugged. “He never said anything directly. Maybe you can ask him.”
    I doubted that.
    The day went better than I thought it would, though. When we got to the house, Steve was just finishing up the breakfast dishes. We went out back, where Pete’s dad was cleaning and sharpening his garden tools for the winter. He shook my hand and slapped Pete on the back. “Hey, guys. Pull up a bench.”
    I looked around. The lawnmower, electric trimmer, and various other tools were lying on the patio. “Can we help?”
    “Nah. Just getting everything set for a couple months’ rest. It’s my Christmas Eve routine.”
    “Yeah.” Pete grinned. “Ever since I can remember.”
    “Cool.” I sat back and watched Pete and his dad interact. They weren’t entirely relaxed with each other. There was an underlying sense that was hard to describe…like they were tiptoeing around something. In a while, Steve came out and we all fell into conversation, which continued as it got to be noon and Steve started the grill. We cooked outside, but ate inside. It was warm in the sun, but the sun was on the far side of the house now, and it was getting a little nippy.
    I helped Pete’s dad clean the kitchen while Pete and Steve went into the TV room to hang out. When we joined them, Pete was telling about our experience with the Clean My Hoard show.
    We talked about that for a while, and I ended up telling them all about the Book of Kells and the pages we’d found. Steve was impressed. “I’ve seen that book, when I went to Ireland. Stood in line for two hours to get in. It was worth it, though. Amazing to think of something that old.”
    Pete’s dad asked, “Do you really think what you found is from that book?”
    “I don’t know. But we’ll find out in a couple of weeks. One of the curators from the exhibit is coming over from Dublin to examine it.”
    “If it’s authentic, what will happen to it?”
    “I’m not sure. Legally it belongs to my ex-sister-in-law. So I’d think she would make an arrangement to sell it to Trinity College.”
    Steve said, “I hope she can do that. I bet the Catholic Church will try to get their hands on it somehow, though.”
    Pete glared. “The fucking Catholics can’t have it.”
    His vehemence surprised me a bit, but I said, “I agree. And I don’t think Jennifer will let it go to them.”
    Steve started to say something else, but Pete’s dad turned the conversation back to reality TV shows, and I temporarily forgot about Pete’s reaction.
    It was a pleasant visit and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I thanked Pete’s dad. He said, “Any time. Don’t be a stranger.”
    Pete was still a little quieter than usual as we were leaving. When we got in the car, I turned to him. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about the Catholics."
    He glanced at me, frowning. "You're no fan of them."
    "Well, no." My dad’s family had all been Presbyterians; the Brodies had been Protestant since the Scottish Reformation in 1560. There was no love lost between the Presbyterians and the Catholics. “And I agree that the manuscript belongs at Trinity College. But there doesn't have to be a bidding war; Jennifer can just refuse to sell it to anyone else."
    Pete was still glowering a little. "They'll find some way to weasel it out of her if they can. They'll even claim that it belongs to them, and that she has to hand it over. She could