“Hey!” I shouted, shining the flashlight from my phone. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The digger looked up, squinting in the light. My jaw dropped—it was George, the guy who sold us the house last year.
“Frank?” he asked, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I replied, my anger rising. “What are you doing in my yard at midnight?”
George’s face dropped. He climbed out of the hole, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t call the cops.”
I crossed my arms. “Talk.”
George sighed. “My grandfather used to own this place. I recently found out that he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“So, you broke into my yard to search for treasure?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I know it sounds crazy,” George said, “but it’s true. Look, I’ll make you a deal. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find—fifty-fifty.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve called the police right then. But there was something in George’s eyes—desperation, hope, maybe both—that made me hesitate.
“Fine,” I said, “but when we’re done, we fill this hole back in, treasure or not.”
George nodded eagerly. “Deal.”
We spent the next few hours digging, sharing stories between shovelfuls of dirt.
“So, what exactly are we looking for?” I asked, wiping sweat from my brow.
George shrugged. “Not sure. Could be cash, jewelry, anything. Grandpa didn’t trust banks.”
As we dug, I learned more about George. He’d recently lost his job, and his wife was battling cancer. “This treasure,” he said, “could change everything for us.”
I nodded, understanding his desperation. “Life’s funny like that. One minute you’re struggling, and the next…”
“Exactly,” George said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
We kept at it, the cool night air a welcome relief as we worked. Every so often, one of us would hit something hard, and we’d both freeze, hearts racing. But it was always just another rock.
“So, tell me more about your grandfather,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going. “What made you think he’d hide something here?”
George leaned on his shovel, catching his breath. “He was a character, my grandpa. Always talking about the government and how you couldn’t trust banks. He’d tell these wild stories about buried treasure and secret hiding spots.”
