Slowly, Reid opened the lid. Inside was a small book bound in red leather, a faded piece of paper that looked like it could crumble any minute, and a black silk rectangle.
“That was the flag on her ship.” Miles pointed at the dark fabric, then pointed at the faded paper. “And that was their marriage license. They married in secret in 1714. Then once her indenture was up, he picked her up and took her away to the Caribbean and they stalked merchant ships together for two years. But when their son got older, she said she wanted him raised here. She thought that given enough time, she could overcome the rumors and give him a respectable future. She built that house over there because she could still keep watch for her husband without putting him in danger.”
Bree lifted the marriage license carefully from the box. “BSB and JWB. Blake Burton and Jenny Wharton Burton. So Drake Wharton wasn’t Drake Burton’s son, he was Blake Burton’s son.”
The old man nodded. “Yes. But Blake Burton had been gone for years. There was a price on his head for piracy. He only came back in secret. After he left in 1712, he was lost in local history, overshadowed by his brother’s legend—and the rumor his brother stirred up to protect the boy, Drake Wharton. Blake Burton was never seen in Treasure Harbor again.”
Bree gasped. “But he was, once. Barnabas Shelton said he saw Drake Burton’s ghost pick Jenny Wharton up the night her indenture ran out and she left for good.”
“What about the coins in your sofa, Miles?” Reid stood and paced the porch as he tried to pull the last threads together. “So those coins aren’t connected to the Burton-Callahan treasure everyone is looking for?”
“No. I don’t have any gold bars. I don’t know anything about them. These coins I have and the ones you’ve found are the haul from a Spanish ship destined for the Vatican. Blake and Jenny intercepted it off the coast of Gibraltar. It was their most valuable plunder, but obviously, they could never spend the ancient coins and Jenny couldn’t do anything with them once she returned to town without arousing suspicion. So they’ve been passed down from generation to generation, and I am the last male of Blake and Jenny’s line.”
“What are you going to do with them, Miles? You don’t have any children.” Lillian looked from the box of history to her distant relative.
“I don’t know. I’ve kept the secret my whole life.” He turned toward Reid. “You said I could trust you.”
“Of course. I meant it.”
“This is a family secret. Lillian and Breanna, you are family. It must remain a secret.”
“I’ve got nothing.”
Reid could hear the sound of wind crackling against the microphone on the other end of the call.
“What do you mean you’ve got nothing?” His boss sounded edgier than usual.
“The treasure hunt. It didn’t pan out. I don’t know where the gold bars are.” Reid sat on the couch in the living room of his extended stay hotel room.
Allen raised his voice. Reid couldn’t be sure if it was to be heard over the wind or if it was driven by anger. “You said you were onto something. You asked me to give you a week. I’ve given you even more than that. What happened, Knight?”
He wanted to tell Allen that he’d found something even more rare than gold bars and a bag of jewels. He’d found a trove of coins from antiquity. He’d found the hidden ruins of a pirate hideout. And he’d gotten the true story about one of the most famous female pirates who had ever sailed the high seas.
But Reid couldn’t tell Allen any of it.
He couldn’t break the trust that had been placed in him.
“I don’t know what’s happened to the gold bars,” Reid said with total honesty. “Sometimes your sources take you down a different path.”
“Then get on a plane. Today. Now. I’m calling the charter company and they’ll pick you up in two hours. Hurricane Leonore wobbled to the west last night. Now she’s bearing down on Port Provident, Texas, almost one year to the day after Hurricane Hope slammed in there. You get here to Port Provident with me and Rick. Maybe if we’re lucky, this story will be big enough to boost some ratings and buy us some time.”
The call disconnected and Reid stared blankly at the wall. He’d heard his boss’ words. The ultimatum was clear. Get to Texas, get a story…or get out.
But how was he going to tell Bree?
Reid walked into the bedroom of his two-room suite. Maybe while he was packing, he would think of something.
As Reid loaded his suitcase into the back of the Jeep, he still hadn’t thought of anything. How could he tell Bree he was just leaving? The assignment was over, but because of the promise he’d made, he hadn’t gotten the story or helped her clear her family’s name in local history. He’d failed at everything he’d originally set out to do.
But he had kept his promise.
He’d also fallen for the blonde history professor, but Reid knew now that thinking they could make things work was like that line from A to B Bree had once spoken about. It was nothing more than an exercise in geometry. Reid knew wouldn’t be around long enough to see if what he’d discovered with Bree was history in the making of their own, something that would last.
He’d packed and checked out faster than he’d planned. If he drove quickly enough, he could get one last walk around the Pirate’s House and Lookout Point. He knew he’d think of them often in the days to come. There was work to do in Port Provident—hurricane season was always fast and furious for people like him—but he was going to leave a part of himself behind in Treasure Harbor, North Carolina.
And he knew, without a doubt, it would be the best part of him that remained behind.
It would be his heart.
Reid sat on the top step of the Pirate’s House, taking in Jenny Wharton’s view of golden light caressing the top of thousands of small, rolling waves.
“You’re back?” Miles Wharton popped out from behind the tallest clump of seagrass.
“Not for long. I’ve been reassigned. Since I didn’t find out the truth behind the Burton-Callahan treasure, I’m being sent to Texas to cover a hurricane that seems to be headed on the same path as last year’s Hurricane Hope.”
“You didn’t tell your network about the coins?”
“No, I didn’t. I told you that you could trust me.”
“And Breanna? What about her?” Miles put his hands on his hips, looking like a defiant jockey or a recalcitrant toddler—Reid couldn’t decide which. Perhaps both descriptions fit the quirky hermit, each in their own particular way.
“I haven’t told her yet. I keep trying to think of the right way to say it, or even…”
Reid wanted to let his thoughts trail off. There was no use talking about things that had no way of happening.
But Miles clearly picked up on the fact that Reid had more to say. “Or even what?”
“Or even a way to stay in Treasure Harbor,” Reid said flatly. “But there’s not. I need my job. I have obligations at home. My sister requires specialized medical treatments. I can’t stay in Treasure Harbor and keep my job. And I can’t fund her treatments without keeping my job. So I can’t stay in Treasure Harbor.”
“Come with me. I want you to have something before you go.”
Reid was becoming used to Miles abruptly walking away. He followed in the man’s footsteps all the way back to the door of the weathered cottage. At the threshold, Miles waved Reid inside.
“Sit there.” He pointed to a chair in the corner, and Reid did as he was told.
Miles knelt beside the couch and pulled stuffing out of the lumpy center cushion once again. When he stood up, he held one thick silver coin with heavy detail of a four-horse chariot on the back of it.
“For you. A Greek Drachma, with my thanks.”
Reid turned the coin over and then back again, marveling at the detailing. “How old is this?”
“About 2400 years or so.”
He couldn’t believe the weight of history in his hands. It was just a coin, but it made Reid’
s head spin to think of all the time it had spent on this Earth. Suddenly, Reid felt very insignificant.
“I can’t take this, Miles. You said it yourself the first day Bree and I stopped by—these coins are your inheritance.”
“You have no father, is that correct, Reid?”
One of their many talks after Igor had been about Reid’s nomadic life. He was surprised the eccentric old man remembered the details.
“That’s right.”
“You have no father. I have no son. That coin is an inheritance without an inheritor. I can do with it what I’d like.”
Reid had spent enough time with Miles to know not to argue with him. “I thank you, then, Miles. This is an honor.”
“I trust you, Reid. Do the right thing.”
Miles walked back to his bedroom and closed the door. Unsure what to make of that exit, Reid decided to show himself the door. He didn’t have much time anyway. The plane would be expecting him at the airport soon.
He had to tell Bree. He had to find her and tell her in person.
He had to do the right thing.
The first thing on her Christmas list this year was going to be a set of good bookends, Bree thought as she shoved the stack of books on her top shelf back to an upright position for the third time this week.
Two swift knocks on the door rattled the tiny room just enough to bring them back down again.
“For the love of pizza.” Bree rolled her eyes and opened her office door.
As she saw Reid in the hall, she smiled. She’d much rather talk about loving him than loving pizza.
“Come on in,” she said, unable to keep a smile off her face.
He didn’t reciprocate her smile, didn’t reach out for a hug, didn’t lean in for a kiss. Reid didn’t demonstrate even one of the behaviors she’d come to expect over the last two weeks while they’d searched for treasure together and grown closer in the process.
“Something’s wrong, Reid. What is it?”
“I’m being sent to Texas today. Hurricane Leonore made an abrupt change of direction last night and now seems to be headed straight for Port Provident.”
The name sounded familiar, but Bree couldn’t quite place it. “Didn’t they get hit with a hurricane last year?”
“Exactly. Hurricane Hope. So since I wasn’t able to find the answers to the Burton-Callahan treasure, they’ve had to pull the plug on the reality show. Allen’s sending me to Texas to team up with Rick O’Connell in the hopes that the one-two punch will bring in enough ratings until we can get a different story to launch the reality show with.”
Bree felt frost line her stomach. “Your boss is hoping a hurricane hits a poor town that’s already been through enough—just so he can get some ratings?”
“I need my job, Bree. I’ve told you why.” Reid’s voice was cold.
The frost turned to ice. Suddenly, she wanted a sweater in the middle of the deep South.
“So you’re leaving?”
Reid looked out the window, then back at her. “I don’t have much choice.”
Even though she hated the dispassionate sound of his voice—it sent her mind racing—Bree knew Reid was right. He didn’t have the luxury of making rash decisions. He had to think about Mandy.
“Will you be back in Treasure Harbor sometime?” She knew the answer before she finished blurting out the sentence of nonsense.
“Probably not. I doubt Allen will spend more budget on the Burton-Callahan legend. We’re not the first people who have failed to solve the mystery.”
She nodded. “I guess my family’s just destined to be the black sheep of Treasure Harbor forever.”
“I’m sorry I let you down, Bree.” Reid balled up a fist and shoved it in one of the deep pockets of his cargo shorts. “You shouldn’t have trusted me. I was only here on borrowed time.”
He started to walk out of the office, then stopped and leaned toward her. Slowly, he kissed her on the cheek. The ice in her stomach reacted with the spark of adrenaline that the touch of his lips caused to flare in her veins.
Reid closed the door behind him with a soft click. Bree stared at the door, stunned. That wasn’t the Reid she’d come to know. Nothing about it made sense.
His last line reverberated in her head.
Borrowed time?
In her case, it was more like living with a borrowed heart—and she didn’t want it any more.
Three weeks later, Bree still couldn’t get the thoughts of borrowed time out of her head. She couldn’t get thoughts of Reid out of her head either, no matter how much she’d thrown herself back into her work.
Books and study had always been her escape, but not this time. Nothing warmed that frostbitten feeling in the pit of her stomach that had become all that remained in her life of Reid Knight.
When Hurricane Leonore wobbled back to the east, going ashore near the Texas/Louisiana border instead of Provident Island, Bree had hoped that Reid’s trip to Texas would be cut short and that he’d return back to the Outer Banks.
But the man who wouldn’t leave her dreams never came back to her office door.
Bree was about to pack up early for the day when her phone rang. Seeing Granny Lillian’s name in the display, Bree tapped the green circle on the screen and connected the call.
“Hi, Honey. Can you drive me to Walt Potter’s office today? I need to be there in an hour.”
“The probate attorney? Granny, are you okay?” Bree’s blood pressure spiked at the thought of anything happening to her beloved great-grandmother.
“I’m fine. I just got a letter the other day about Miles Wharton’s will.”
Miles had passed away in his sleep two weeks ago. He’d been discovered by the lifeguard patrol that was responsible for Lookout Point. They’d been checking in on him periodically for years.
“Oh, okay, Granny. As long as it’s not your will we’re discussing.”
Granny laughed. “Now why would I go to a probate hearing to listen to someone read my own will? What a daft idea, girlie. I need to go finish my hair. See you in a few minutes.”
Bree’s pounding heart slowed and she gathered some papers to finish grading once she got home. Picking up her keys, she wondered about Miles Wharton’s will—there wasn’t much in the cabin at Lookout Point to divide up. There wasn’t much of anything besides those coins, and Bree wouldn’t have put it past Miles to bury them in a hole at the Pirate’s House so that in a way, they’d be returned back to Jamaica Jenny.
Once they got to Walt Potter’s office, his assistant showed them into a conference room. Someone stood near the back corner, talking with the town’s best-known lawyer. They shook hands, and Walt stepped away.
“Lillian!”
As Walt made a beeline for Granny, Bree’s knees locked and her breath caught in her chest.
Reid stood just behind where Walt had been.
She wanted to run to him, wanted to throw her arms around him, wanted to feel the melting of the ice she’d carried around for weeks now. But then she stopped herself. He’d left—he’d had good reasons at the time, but even after the threat of the hurricane was gone, he hadn’t made any effort to contact her. She had to remember that.
Just like the night at the Pirate’s House, that changed everything.
“Reid? What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are, it looks like.” His unexpected presence was more of a jolt than a double shot of caffeine.
“I’m just here for Granny. I think I’m the only Granny Lillian shuttle service in town.”
“So you didn’t get a letter?”
He looked much like he did on TV, wearing a collared shirt and freshly-starched beige pants. It was a long way from the cargo shorts and T-shirts he’d worn during their time together. But Bree forced herself to remember that this was real life—not those brief few weeks when they’d been together, exploring both treasure and what it meant for each of them to trust their hearts again.
“No, just Granny.” S
he thought if she kept her answers simple, it would keep her from saying something she’d regret. Small talk seemed like a good choice. “How’s work?”
“I actually got laid off right after I left Texas. NWN had to make some cuts.”
Bree felt sad for Reid—she knew he’d been trying to avoid that at all costs.
“What about Mandy?”
“I have severance through the end of the year. We’re trying to figure out next steps. I’ve thought about maybe leaving the City because that will make my severance last a lot longer.”
Before Bree could respond back, Walt cleared his throat and began to speak.
“I don’t think this will take very long. You two are the only ones mentioned in Miles Wharton’s will. I have a copy for each of you. Feel free to read over it, then let me know if you have any questions.” The lawyer handed some documents to Granny Lillian and Reid.
“Lillian, you’re being given a wooden box with his family documents,” Walt said.
Bree noticed her granny wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Bree looked back at Reid, watched as he scanned the paper, then heard him begin to laugh.
The lawyer turned to Reid. “He was very specific with your bequest, Mr. Knight.”
“I see that,” Reid said, still chuckling slightly. “One living room couch, plus all the cushions.”
Walt crossed his arms. “I tried explaining to him that it wasn’t necessary to go into that level of detail. The couch would naturally come with the cushions.”
“Naturally.” Reid turned to Bree. “It seems I’ve inherited a couch.”
“With cushions.” Bree knew exactly what that meant. The priceless pirate’s inheritance, passed down through generations of Miles’ family, now belonged to Reid.
“I trust you to make a good recommendation on where I should put that couch,” Reid said to Bree. “I don’t think it’s a New York City couch.”
There was no mistaking Reid’s emphasis on the word trust. It was a word that had meaning to them both—and to Miles Wharton.
“I don’t know why you want my opinion on the couch. We haven’t spoken since the last time you were in my office.”
His Timeless Treasure (Treasure Harbor Book 5) Page 7
