Great Uncle Claude's

The last place that Catlin wanted to be that Saturday was in the stuffy attic of her great uncle’s farmhouse. She let out a big sigh and lifted another box off the ground, moving it in to the light. Her father walked past her and patted her shoulder, smiling down at her. She scowled back at him and returned her attention to the box. Her Great Uncle Claude had been something of a godfather to her, though her family wasn’t particularly religious. He was present at all the important moments of her life, her first birthday, her first day of school, her first driver’s test – which she had failed, and he had confided that he too had failed his first attempt. And then he’d let her drive his brand new V8 Camaro to the beach and back as a show of confidence in her ability. Catlin had secretly hoped that Claude would be around to walk her down the aisle alongside her father. But that was a dream she’d let go of six months ago when Claude had succumbed to his questionable lifestyle choices, dying of a heart attack at the age of 68.

It wasn’t that Catlin didn’t want to help sort through her Great Uncle’s things, it was just that she didn’t want to do it on this day, with her father Cary and her Great Uncle’s last girlfriend. Today was truly a once in a season kind of day: the weather was hot but not cloyingly humid like most of the southwestern Ontario summer. There was a slight breeze and no clouds. She knew that the beach would be packed with people but the collective excitement from that many people in such close proximity was something she loved to immerse herself in. Plus, this was practically her birthday weekend. On Wednesday, Catlin would be 25 and today, she was missing the best beach day of the season in favor of starting the process of clearing out Great Uncle Claude’s possessions.

“Do you want to keep these old journals, Jackie?” Catlin was brought out of her self pity party by the sound of her father’s voice. She looked over at the box of Moleskine notebooks in various sizes and colours. Her Great Uncle had loved to keep lists, jot down his thoughts or observations on to paper. He’d never really transitioned to the digital age, preferring to keep a notebook on him at all times. Catlin recognized the pocket sized, classic, black hardcover Moleskine she’d purchased for Claude on his 60th birthday. Jackie was flipping through the notebooks at a rapid pace, scanning what was written inside. She was separating them into piles, presumably to keep or to toss. Some of the books were completely empty, likely purchased to keep in waiting; Claude always liked to have the next book ready for when he filled his last page.

“I’ll keep these,” Jackie said, holding up a small stack “this one is the diary of our trip to Spain,” She smiled, lovingly running her fingers over the burgundy oil cloth cover. Catlin rolled her eyes and turned back to her own box. “These,” Jackie continued, gesturing to the other pile, “are just random thoughts, half filled pages. And this,” she held up the black pocketbook, “has only one page written in it. And it’s just random words and someone’s phone number I don’t recognize. I don’t know anyone with an 867 area code. Maybe he was showing signs of being sick and I never noticed,” Jackie’s voice cracked. She seemed to have felt some sort of responsibility for indulging Claude’s bad habits. “It’s gibberish,”

Jackie held the notebook out to Cary.

“Well, it certainly is strange,” he began, “Kiss, Bald, Apple, Couch, Sneeze, Chair, Window, Fox, Grass, Blue, Acorn, Grounded. It’s just four rows of three words, maybe he was making a bingo card,” Cary joked.

But Catlin’s interest was piqued.

“Let me see that,” she crossed the room quickly and snatched the book out of her father’s hand. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She flipped through the book quickly, rifling each page, searching for another clue. As the last page turned, a small polaroid picture fell out. Catlin recognized it as one she’d taken on her sixteenth birthday with the camera her Great Uncle had given her. It was a vintage polaroid camera from the 1980’s. Claude had found it when he’d renovated the farmhouse. It had been in the safe he’d uncovered behind a false wall in what was now the home gym. She let out a laugh. A deep, throw your head back laugh. Her father looked at her with bewilderment as her eyes began to sparkle.

“Dad, I think Uncle Claude has a cold wallet,” She began, excitedly. “And I think that this polaroid is a clue as to where it is. Jackie, did Claude keep this ski suit?” Catlin asked, turning the polaroid around. Jackie reached out for and laughed despite herself. The picture was of Claude, clad head to toe in a neon, one-piece, vintage 1980’s ski suit at Catlin’s 80’s themed sweet sixteen party. He was standing, knees bent, goggles on, arms tucked to his ribs as though he was skiing.

“Where was this?” Jackie asked, “I never knew he skied,”

“He didn’t,” Catlin couldn’t keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice as she snatched the photo out of Jackie’s hands “It was for my birthday party. Did he keep this suit?”

Jackie shook her head slowly, “I don’t know. I haven’t come across it yet and we’ve cleaned out nearly everything from his closets.”

Catlin thought for a moment. If he didn’t have the suit, when why the photo? What did it mean, if anything?

“Hang on,” Cary’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “What is a cold wallet? And why do you think Claude had one and most importantly, how does that Moleskine play in?”

“Dad, do you know what crypto currency is?” Cary shook his head. “Have you ever heard of Bitcoin? BTC?”

“Sure, isn’t that some scam on the internet where you buy theoretical money with your real money and you never see it again?” Catlin rolled her eyes. Her dad, though only 59, was so out of touch with technology.

“It’s not a scam, dad, it’s just like buying silver or gold. That part doesn’t really matter. It’s just a digital currency that you or anyone can use without going through a central bank or government. The point is, I think that Uncle Claude invested in Bitcoin, has it stored on a cold wallet – like a USB stick – and these twelve words are like the combo to open it. And I think he wanted me to find it.” Her eyes were shining. This was shaping up to be so much better than the best beach day of the year.

“Okay,” Cary said slowly, “So now what?”

“Now we have to find the cold wallet. And then we can find out how many coins Uncle Claude has stored on it. And I think that it has something to do with this photo. I thought at first, he might have the ski suit hanging in a closet and the wallet would be in the pocket or something. But if it’s gone maybe he’s put it somewhere else. This photo was taken on a camera he found here in the house. In a safe. Jackie, did Claude have a safe in the house?” Catlin hadn’t spent much time at the farmhouse in recent years. It was partially because she didn’t care for Jackie, but it was also because she was so busy trying to kickstart her life. Catlin wanted to be writer, but making ends meet while trying to go to school part time and write was proving to be a bigger task then she’d imagined. She painfully remembered the cancelled dates with her Uncle from the preceding five years.

“Well, there’s the UN-safe,” Jackie offered, smiling at the quizzical looks she was receiving. “I called it the UN-safe because you couldn’t lock it. I guess Claude found it when he was renovating and had the lock drilled out. I always wondered why he didn’t get a new one,” her voice trailed off as she lost herself in a long-finished conversation that had likely ended in an argument.

“Where is it now,” Catlin asked urgently. Jackie led the way down the attic ladder to the top floor bedroom that she called Claude’s green room, owing to the indoor/outdoor green carpet on the floor. She gestured towards a desk under the window where the ‘un-safe’ sat, door slightly ajar. Inside was an assortment of papers and old photos and a small envelope with Catlin’s name on it. Her breath quickening, Catlin opened the envelope, pulling out a folded piece of paper bearing her Great Uncle’s tidy script. ‘Catlin, I want you to have the Subaru’. Without a word, Catlin raced to the driveway throwing open the door to her Uncle’s favorite winter car, an immaculately maintained 2003 WRX. In the aftermarket stereo, Catlin recognized the wallet immediately. To anyone else, it would be just a USB key that likely held music. But Catlin knew that it could likely hold millions. Breathless and triumphant, she returned to the Green Room with the wallet, sat at the desk and plugged in the tiny, USB stick to her Great Uncle’s computer. She pulled the emerald green Moleskine out of her pocket and let out a deep breath.

A bright blue screen lit up on the wallet, asking for an eight-digit pin. Catlin entered the ‘phone number’ from the notebook. An app opened on the screen.

“We’re in,” Catlin breathed. Now all that was left was to find out how many coins Claude had stored. A few mouse clicks later and Catlin had her answer.

“If this wouldn’t make the stuffed bird laugh,” Jackie let out a giggle at the familiar phrase of Claude’s.

“How good is it,” Cary asked.

“I never would have thought he’d even know what cryptocurrency was. And now, there’s a small, secret fortune we never knew about,” Catlin replied.

“Catlin. How much is there?” Cary demanded, impatient.

“There’s just half a coin,” she breathed. No one spoke as they waited for Catlin to finish. “And the value of a single Bitcoin today is about $50,000 Canadian.” She looked up at her dad, joyful tears in her eyes, “Dad, that’s $20,000...”

“And we never would have found it without you. It’s all yours,” Cary finished.