Zelda

   Minerva Mallen positioned her beach umbrella, though she was sure she wouldn't really be using it. She liked spending time in the sun, even when the beach was particularly hot like it was today. Annies don't tan for some reason, otherwise Minerva might've felt self-conscious about her bone-white complexion. Her pale skin did seem perfectly complimented by her purple Creek Bend bikini and matching bow tied around her neck. She was certainly stunning, with her adorable annie face atop one of the most perfectly proportioned bodies to ever be encased in the town's signature swimwear. Her hair was black with a white streak running through it, a similar streak running the length of her long tail. The only colors she seemed to possess were tiny details like the pink of her nose and inner ears. She'd painted her fingernails red, but her eyelids were naturally violet. A strange thing about annies, at least the female ones, was that they possessed natural coloring over their eyes. It did simplify the make-up needs of female annies, certainly.

   Minerva meant to spend the day on the beach, but not actually in the water. You probably wouldn't spend much time in the surf either, if you had a long bushy tail like Minerva's. These long tails miraculously didn't pick up much dirt or dust as they were dragged along behind their owners, but getting them wet meant taking a long time for them to dry back out. And while they were wet, these long tails were prone to picking up all the lint and dirt they somehow avoided when dry. Each type of annie had their own unique issues where this sort of thing was concerned. Minerva and other annies with long tails had to learn quickly how to maneuver them to keep them out of doors or keep them from being tangled up in one's feet. Fortunately, this was picked up pretty fast and most annies with such tails had them under control by the time they were four years old. They aged quite normally until they matured, then they didn't seem to age at all. Some males aged a bit when they got older, but not many seemed to.

   Getting back to the issue of tails, only the really long tails seemed to offer much of a learning curve during the developmental years. Girls like Crissy and Doris had little tufts which required only minimal attention. This was fortunate, since these girls seldom saw their tails unless they took effort to bring them into view for grooming. Although they could get ruffled in their sleep, a little brushing and their tails seemed to hold their shape all day. Some annies had bird features. Sometimes these girls had tails which were composed of what looked like a couple of feathers the same color as their hair. These "feathers" seemed resilient enough, as they were constantly being crammed into seat backs and coming back to their original shape without effort. They weren't actually feathers, either. They weren't fur tails like the other girls had, though. They held their shape but were very soft. Everybody called them feathers because it was just easier that way. For some reason, only some birds had to deal with this. Yvette Pond, with the features of a duck, had no tail at all. Lois Teppert had a tail, but her sister didn't. 

   Compared to all that, some might think of Minerva's long tail as something of a burden. After all, annie mice could at least swim without worrying about the matter since their tails were skin rather than fur. Still, Minerva's tail gave her a certain balance of proportions which was aesthetically pleasing. She may have looked like some kind of mutant skunk, but the resemblance was only physical. Fortunately, she didn't carry an odor like a real skunk would. It would certainly hinder one's social life if that were the case!

   Minerva rested on her beach blanket as she mulled over these facts, her tail off to the side from her legs. While she could move it to some degree, it wasn't prehensile or anything. It was more decoration than anything else. It could be stepped on by someone else if she wasn't careful to keep it close to her body, though. Minerva stretched out and closed her eyes. She could easily nod off if she let herself, she was so comfortable. The sounds of the surf rolling in were soothing, so much so that Minerva was quickly on the verge of falling asleep. 

   She stirred when she rolled over and felt something under the blanket. Her hand brushed by something hard, but it didn't seem to be a rock or a sea shell. Minerva pulled back the blanket and ran her fingers through the sand. There was something there, alright, something machined. She pulled up a metal box roughly the size of a cigarette case. The box was silver, beautifully tooled with all sorts of overlays in a floral pattern. It looked pretty valuable, too, and must've meant a lot to whoever lost it.

   Minerva sat up and examined the box as she brushed the sand off of it. A small latch held one end closed. Minerva pushed back to tiny hinge and opened the box to find it contained a beautiful diamond ring nestled on a soft fabric pillow. Inside the lid was an inscription. "To my darling Zelda, the brilliance of thine eyes shine more than all diamonds. Thy loving Tom. 1930." This was special, alright. Was it lost at the beach when it was presented? Had it been here for nearly thirty years? Minerva pictured the girl who received this ring, frantically searching the beach at night to find the box she'd dropped. Possibly it had fallen overboard and washed up on the beach years later. Who was this Zelda, and how could Minerva find her?

   Steve Morrow and his wife Patty stood by Minerva as she waited in the courthouse lobby. Maybe the city records had a clue, although there was no certainty that Zelda was a native. Still, it was the only thing the three of them could think of. Two names, Tom and Zelda, weren't a lot to go on. Steve examined the case.

   "If we could determine if this ring and box were crafted locally we'd have a better clue. The man who built it might have records on who bought it."

   "A tall order after almost thirty years," Patty sighed, "but it's possible." Minerva turned away from the desk and took another look at the case. There didn't seem to be any markings of manufacture, but the bottom of the case had been rubbed down quite a bit. Minerva held the case close to her face.

   "Say," Minerva squinted, "I think there might be a tiny tool mark on the latch we missed." Steve inspected. There was something there. A very tiny mark that at first glance looked like decoration. It was stylized enough to be a logo of some kind, however. Patty put her head next to Steve's. Both squinted.

   "Is that a sword?" Patty asked.

   "Looks like one," Steve said, "it'd be easier to tell with a magnifying glass." This examination paused as the official finally returned from the record room.

   "I checked the names with the year of 1930," he reported, "I have no record of a wedding involving a Tom and Zelda, no recorded students by that name during the period, either. I went as far back as 1925. Only Zelda I have on record is a widow who died that year."

   "I see," Minerva sighed, "thank you anyway." Minerva turned back to Steve and Patty. Steve continued to hold the silver case.

   "You know," he announced, "if we could track down this metalwork we might still be able to find something. Let's go back to the studio and check it under a glass." Moments later, the trio were huddled over Steve's desk. They scrutinized the latch under a magnifying glass. Patty looked intently at the mark and then made a sketch of the logo.

   "I don't think it's a sword," Minerva looked at the logo, then to Patty's sketch, "at least no sword I've ever seen."

   "Looks rather expressionist, doesn't it?" Steve offered. Patty puzzled over her drawing.

   "Looks sorta like a carrot or something." The three of them came to the same realization at the same moment. Carrots Jewelers had a thriving business in Creek Bend, and had even operated successfully during the Depression in such rural surroundings. The branch office in Amsterville didn't hurt, either. Still, none of the friends assembled remembered the company ever using a literal carrot as the company logo. They knew someone who would know, however.

   Crissy examined the silver case as Roger stood by. Minerva, Steve, and Patty waited anxiously to hear Crissy's report. She nodded.

   "Uncle Nestor used a logo like this for a few years, I think. It'd been replaced with another logo before I was born, but I remember when working in Unc's office that he still had some items with this mark on them. I can't say if he'd still have his records going back that far. It's possible, though. He might even remember the job itself. A silver case like this would've been pretty special so soon after the crash." Crissy picked up the telephone. Soon, Minerva, Steve, Patty, Crissy, and Roger were crammed into a record room with Uncle Nestor. He was pawing through the records for '29-'31 to find the receipt. Everything else he seemed to remember perfectly, though.

   "I remember Tom," Nestor recalled, "dapper young fella from Beverly Hills. He'd fallen in love with Zelda when they met in Amsterville. He was on his way into a meeting with a friend of his, seeking investments to build a new type of passenger plane. Zelda was the cleaning woman in the same building. He fell madly in love with her at first sight. She was a poor girl at the time, but a sensible girl too. There was only one opulent thing she dreamed of owning since childhood. A diamond ring. Tom made sure she got it. That's the ring he paid me to make for Zelda in '30. Broke her heart when she lost it. A thief stole her purse in '33, and she had the ring and the case in the purse. The police caught up to the guy, but he put up a fight and there was gunplay. The crook still had the case, but in the action he dropped it on the beach. The police looked for it, but never found it. Zelda spent the next few years trying to find it. Tom enlisted after Pearl, was killed in '43 in the Pacific. Zelda spent a few more years trying to find her ring, hanging onto the memory of when Tom gave it to her. Oh, he bought her another ring, but it wasn't as special. Zelda wanted her first ring back. Never got it, though. Lives in Los Angeles now, I think."

   As rambling as Nestor's recollections were, they cut to the quick. Minerva realized that what she held was indeed very special. She had to get it back to Zelda, no matter what. "Do you have the address?" Minerva asked. Nestor pulled out a faded sheet of paper.

   "Got an old address, and an old name. Tom Haydens. I'd say it's enough of a lead for the Los Angeles police to track down Zelda Haydens. I kept up with her story for a while, it was so tragic. Don't know if she ever remarried. May still be using the same name."

   "Thank you, Mr. Carrots," Minerva nodded, "I'm going to see she gets her ring." Minerva and her friends placed a few calls before the lot of them drove into L.A. to find an old mansion where Zelda Haydens lived. Zelda was still a striking woman. One could see how Tom would have been instantly drawn to her, even in her uniform. While her husband's house was an opulent one, her tastes still remained rooted in her humble beginnings. The one opulent thing she wanted was the ring Tom had given her. Zelda got misty as Minerva presented the case to her.

   "I'm sorry this took so long, Zelda." Minerva held out the case for the woman to take into her trembling hands. Zelda was overcome as she opened the case and saw once again the ring which she had searched so long for. She'd combed the beach for years, then held onto her memories. The thought about the ring again that morning, and prayed she'd get to wear it again. Her prayer was answered. She couldn't contain herself and hugged Minerva. 

   "Thank you, young lady. You have no idea what this means to me."

   On the drive home, Minerva looked out the window. The rest of the car was filled with couples. Steve and Patty shared the front seat with her. Roger and Crissy held hands in the back seat. Minerva almost felt out of place. She knew how blessed she was, though. How out of place must Zelda have felt after Tom was killed in action? She had a lot to remind herself of Tom, but it was that ring which meant the most. It was the first gift Tom had given her. She felt so lost without it. She'd be going through a lot of emotions tonight. Joy, sorrow, everything in between. 

   Minerva was grateful that she'd found the case in the sand, and that she'd met Zelda. You never know what's going to happen when you go to the beach.