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Back Careful What You Wish For Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. Acknowledgments
  45. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Book
  48. Reading Group Guide
  49. Read On
  50. Praise for Careful What You Wish For
  51. Also by Hallie Ephron
  52. About the Publisher

When she got downstairs, she saw that Frank had gone to work. He’d left her a pot of coffee, but all she could stomach was weak tea. She toasted a slice of bread, but managed to chew and swallow only half of it. Frank’s warning about the risks of handling stolen property made her anxious to get over to the storage facility and return the tube ASAP. She took a can of WD-40 from under the kitchen sink for the lock and left the house. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at Inner Peace Storage.

She parked in front of Mrs. Murphy’s unit and grabbed the document tube from under the passenger seat. Black mildew coated one end of the tube and Emily swiped it a few times against her pants leg. Since she’d started Clutter Kickers she had a much higher tolerance for mildew. As she gave the tube one final swipe, the plastic end cap came loose and fell on the floor of the car. Emily was putting the cap back on when she read the tube’s handwritten label: WILLIAM ALEXANDER MAP OF THE NORTHEAST.

Why not at least have a look at what was inside before she put it back? She slid the document out and smoothed it across the steering wheel. The map was about a foot by a foot and a half. The paper was thick, more parchment than newsprint, and slightly yellowed. The words New France were written in an elegant cursive hand across the topmost landmass. Below that, New Scotland. And over a body of water, Golfe of Canada. An ornate compass occupied the lower corner.

Emily was no expert, but it certainly looked old. It was an engraving or an etching, though Emily didn’t know the difference. With no tears or foxing, it was in pristine condition. She used her phone to google the words on the label. Back came a link to an auction house that, in 2012, had offered what looked like the identical map. According to the description, it was published in London in 1624. In “excellent condition,” it had a value estimate of . . . Emily blinked . . . $12,000. If the map in front of her was worth that much, and if it turned out to have been on permanent unofficial loan, she and Becca were catapulted into felony territory.