Trappings (part 1)

Gracie came inside the house, a bit of mud on her Sunday dress, trying her best not to show the wickedness she was feeling. Her mother would never allow a muddied dress, so she sidestepped her way to the landing and bolted upstairs to her room.
"For goodness sake, Grace! Don't run in the house!" her mother called from the den, shoes off, feet on the couch. Gracie's father was in the backyard, grilling chicken and entertaining guests - co-workers and friends.

Once inside the safety and candid environment of her bedroom, Gracie opened her hand to admire the shiny object resting on her palm. With its polished surface, and floral engraving, Gracie was mesmerized by the lighter. She didn't know what it was however. She'd found it outside where the driveway meets the road. She opened and closed it over and over, enjoying the firm metallic clicking sounds it made. The mechanical components underneath the lid eluded both her understanding and curiosity. It was the ornate beauty of the casing that intrigued her.

"Come down and have some chicken, Grace," her mother called from downstairs. Gracie jumped out of her dress and into a shirt and jeans. She stuffed the lighter into her pocket, and rolled the muddy dress up under her shirt. Moving swiftly once more to evade her mother's suspicions, she put the dress in a hamper in the washroom, then headed outside.
"Here ya go, kiddo," her father said, handing Gracie a chicken sandwich on a paper plate. "There's barbecue sauce on the table if you want any."
"Thank you, daddy." She moved buoyantly the way happy children do, and found a seat at the picnic table.
While the adults ate and talked, Gracie mostly sat quietly, observing them all with great curiosity. There was her mother, looking mostly bored, and occasionally turning her head to burp as petitely as she could after every sip of soda. Her father was very happy. Speaking in a firm yet boisterous voice, he was clearly the center of conversation. There was a skinny man who laughed drunkenly at almost everything. A fat lady who made too many hand gestures when she spoke. And a stern-looking man with grey hair and a nervous about his eyes. No one else seemed to notice it. His reactions all felt too intentional, as though he didn't really find anything funny, but laughed only to avoid calling attention to himself.
"Well, this is certainly great fun, Jake!" the greying man said to Gracie's father. He patted his shirt and pants pockets, looking frantically for something. "Say, I can't seem to find my lighter. I'd love to have a smoke if you don't mind, Jake."
Gracie's mother slipped out of her seat as casually as possible and closed the backyard door to prevent any smoke from entering the house.
"I gotcha," Gracie's father said, lighting a match for the greying man. "Thanks a million, Jake. So odd though. Can't believe I lost my zippo. Had that thing for years - decades you know."
Gracie's father leaned to her. "Honey, have you seen Mr. Kohren's lighter?"
"What's that?" she asked, truly oblivious to the nature of the object in her pocket.
"A shiny metal thing about that big," her father said, holding a void between his thumb and index finger. "It makes fire."
"Really?" she answered, both perplexed and amazed, scrunching her nose.
"Yes honey. I want you to promise not to play with it if you find it - or any lighter for that matter. They're dangerous, okay?"
Feeling guilty and exposed, she nodded shyly. "Okay daddy."
"And if you find Mr. Kohren's lighter, let me know so we can give it back to him."
"'Kay daddy."
A few hours passed, and the sun had set. The guests were taking the last swigs of their drinks, and patting Gracie's father on the back and giving her mother unexpected hugs as they said their goodbyes.
"So very odd about that lighter, Jake. You know it's a family heirloom that lighter. It's been in my family for generations. Brought it over from Germany my great Uncle Englebert did, before the war. Very precious to me, Jake."
"I understand, Mr. Kohren. I'm sure it'll turn up soon. I will keep on eye out for it. Me and Gracie both will," her father said, then looked upon his daughter. "Won't we, Gracie."
"Yes daddy," Gracie answered a little too sharply.
"I'd better get going then, Jake. Thank you for the excellent meal. Bye-bye Nel! Bye-bye Gracelynn!" the greying man said and waved as he left.
"Why'd he call me Gracelynn, daddy?" Gracie asked very confusedly.
"I think that's how you say your name in German."
"That old man is German?"
"He comes from a German family, but he's American."
"Oh."

Gracie took a bath and went to bed. She put the lighter on her dresser and looked at it with a new sense of intrigue and suspicion. Why was it so important to the greying man? What is an heirloom? And how could such a pretty object make fire? Gracie fell asleep wondering.