The boys were busy, keeping themselves occupied with manly chores. One drank a beer, the other enjoyed a glass of wine and the third was catching up on emails before the next day's flight.
She was somewhere upstairs packing and getting ready. Suddenly there was a thump, and the sound of something falling. They heard the metallic rumble of something hitting the air vents inside the walls and then a thud.
He jumped up. He shouted upstairs to check on her. "Is everything ok?"' He called out.
"No!" she cried, "my jewellery fell down the vent. It's gone. It's burnt up!"
The three boys raced up the stairs. She was kneeled over an open vent, cover by her side, looking down in horror.
"I wanted to hide my good jewels", she explained.
They ran down to the main floor and tried to trace the trajectory. They moved furniture and tapped on the walls. They descended in to the basement and entered the furnace room. He turned the light on. He switched on the torch. He tapped the vents above.
"Where could it be?"
"It's gone", he said and shook his head. "What was in the box?", he asked. "How big is it?"
"It's my ring, and my earrings and the stone they gave me. In the little red ring box".
The boys evaluated the vent system, determining which was in and which out. They turned off the furnace just in case. They sent her away. For nourishment. They knew they would be hungry when this was done.
One gently started to pry apart the metal. The other shone a torch. The third took his phone and gently inserted it through the tiny slit and took a photo.
"I see it!", he declared. But the vent was angled down towards the machinery that is the furnace. They looked at eachother and they trembled, knowing what was on the line.
"Let me try get in there", he offered.
"No, you will cut yourself. Let me get you some gloves."
They MacGyvered some cardboard to create a barrier that would stop the little red case from falling further. He gently inserted his hand into the vent and felt around. Nothing.
He considered where he had seen the box in the photo and tried to touch it without moving it further. Nothing.
How could this be? They evaluated the photo once more. It was not possible that they couldn't reach it.
By this time she had returned. "Turn the camera around", she cried. She was right! The iPhone was taking the photo from the other side.
He pulled down the metal and felt inside. "Don't push it further in!", he shouted, "or you will never reach it. There is a wall there!"
He felt nothing.
She gave him a wire hanger. He formed a hook and inserted it into the vent. He reached far. He felt around. Nothing.
He closed his eyes. He pictured the box. He became the box. The box and he were one. The box emerged under the bright lights of the men's tools and into the fresh air. She grabbed it and ran.
The men repaired the ducts. All was as it should be.
Later over dinner they warned her against the insertion of the box into orifices that do not serve a dual purpose. They said not to try the central vac, or a trash compactor. They recommended a cupboard. With a lock.
She looked at them and calmly replied, "You scratched my ring box."
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