Reid looked Bree in the eyes. “I was wrong. I felt like I’d failed you. We hadn’t solved the mystery of the gold bars. I hadn’t helped you set the town legend about your family. I thought I’d broken your trust.”
“No.” The simple syllable caught in Bree’s throat. “Not my trust. I understood that. What you broke was my heart.”
Reid laid the copy of the will on the table and took Bree’s hands in her own. Bree felt the center of her stomach slowly rise back to ninety-eight-point-six degrees.
“I let my pride get in the way. I was wrong. I’d been so frustrated with not solving the mystery of the Burton-Callahan treasure that I completely neglected the fact that I’d found a completely different type of treasure.”
Bree gave Reid’s hands a squeeze. “You know, there’s a very good children’s hospital about an hour from here.”
Reid raised an eyebrow, but didn’t break their connection. “That’s good to hear. I know someone who needs a good children’s hospital. So that’s where you think the couch should go?”
“No,” Bree said, taking a half-step closer to Reid. “I think it is a Treasure Harbor couch. It belongs here.”
“I think you’re right,” Reid said, fully closing the space between them with a kiss. “The rest of the seekers can keep searching for gold along Bounty Beach and in the other nooks and crannies of the Treasure Harbor shoreline. I’ve found what I was looking for.”
HIS TIMELESS TREASURE
Epilogue
The sun was setting over the water off the edge of Lookout Point. Although the calendar said it was fall, this was still the South. The nights still lingered with the day’s warmth, and little fireflies began to zip and twirl and leave pinpricks of light in the twilight sky.
Reid sat on the top of the foundation of the Pirate’s House. He had a blanket spread over the rough concrete. In the corner were two white boxes from Pirate Pizzaria—one with an extra large pepperoni and cheese pizza and another containing two orders of Bree’s favorite guilty pleasure food, hot wings.
It wasn’t exactly Michelin-starred cuisine, but in his heart, Reid knew it would be the perfect picnic surprise.
Nothing less than perfect would do tonight. Reid had planned this evening in his mind for a while, wanting—no, needing—to show Bree how much she’d meant to his life.
He and Mandy had moved to Treasure Harbor one year ago today, not long after Miles Wharton’s will had been read and Reid had inherited a small fortune in antique coins. He’d taken them back to New York and conferred with several scholars in the field, who agreed that the collection was one of the finest they’d ever seen.
One of the academics introduced Reid to a collector, and together, they worked to do justice to the collection. A set of the coins stayed behind at Carolina Harbor College, and some were given to the Treasure Harbor Historical Society. One of the world’s largest museums wanted the Spanish coins, and Reid donated them in Miles Wharton’s name. A handful of the coins were sold at a prestigious auction house, and the money they brought in assured that Reid would never again have to worry about affording the care Mandy deserved.
The four-horse Greek drachma remained with Reid, although he’d stopped carrying it around in his pocket once he’d been informed of the price the coin would fetch from the right collector. With Reid’s luck, he’d have put it in a soft drink machine one day when he wasn’t paying attention.
So, he’d had it mounted and framed, and it hung in his bedroom, a testament to both the treasure he’d come searching for, and the one he’d found instead.
Engraved on a small plaque below the coin was the Bible verse he seemed to bring to mind almost daily this past year: “Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves cannot break in and steal.”
Reid had finally learned the meaning of treasure and success. He’d found something that couldn’t be taken away from him like a career or destroyed like the house that had once been built by the pirate Jamaica Jenny Wharton Burton.
He and Mandy had been attending Safe Harbor Church with Bree and Granny Lillian for almost a year, and Reid felt at home every time he walked in the door. In fact, he felt at home everywhere in Treasure Harbor. After years spent in the hustle and bustle of the City that Never Sleeps, the slower pace and warm hospitality of this Carolina island town suited him in a way he never thought possible.
And it was all because of Bree Burton.
The glow from a pair of headlights swung down the path as a familiar car made the final turn before arriving at the Pirate’s House. Reid stood and walked down the small set of stairs.
“Pretty fancy for Friday date night,” Bree said when she got out of her car. “The sunset is gorgeous tonight.”
Reid nodded. “Yeah, I thought we should come back out here to Lookout Point as much as we can before the weather completely turns and it’s too cold to just sit and watch the waves.”
“Do I smell hot wings?”
“Of course you do.” Reid laughed as they walked together back to where he’d set up the picnic. “I get you hot wings every Friday. It wouldn’t be the end of the week without them.”
“And what a week it was. I can’t believe I’m being asked to speak at the Carolina Historical Symposium in December about the Wharton coins. I can’t wait to tell the whole story about this whole side of my family no one basically knew existed.”
Reid wrapped Bree in his arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m proud of the work you did to finish the research and bring the Jamaica Jenny story to life. You’ve connected so many dots in this area’s history, and achieved your goal of setting much of the record straight about the Burtons and the pirate legends around here.”
She tilted her face toward his and smiled. The setting sun splashed gold light across the curves of her face. Reid had to remember to breathe.
“And to think, I owe it all to you,” she said.
“No you don’t. You did most of the work.” While they’d both been there when Miles Wharton started tossing valuable coins out of his couch, Bree had done all the heavy lifting, academically-speaking, to make sure everything was documented and presented correctly.
“But I never would have without you. I intended to stay far away from all that treasure nonsense. I just wanted to prove my worth at the college and make my way in Treasure Harbor apart from all the ghosts of the past.” She smiled gently. “But I never would have made the connection with Miles Wharton without you. I never would have found all those links to the past without you.”
In his mind, Reid had planned out this particular date night in his head, down to the last detail. But something pulled at him, telling him to ask the question which had just popped into his mind as Bree strolled down memory lane.
“What about the future?”
She furrowed her brow slightly. “What about it?”
“Now that you’ve solved the mysteries of the past, what are you going to do about the future?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m a historian.”
He still held her tightly, wanting her close. He’d done a lot of interviews during his television career. But it had never been as important to get things right as it was at this moment.
“I know you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the Burtons lately,” Reid said.
Bree gave a nod of agreement. “I have.”
“I spend a lot of time thinking about the Burtons too.” Reid hesitated for a moment, then pushed the uncertainty aside. He’d never know if he didn’t move forward. “Well, one Burton in particular. You.”
The corners of Bree’s mouth turned slightly upward and in the fading glow, he could see a dusting of color rise on her cheeks.
“What about me?”
“Well, now that you’ve solved this big puzzle about the Burtons, maybe you’d like to move on to another subject.”
“Like what? My areas of specialty are kind of narrow.”
Reid couldn’t help but smile.
He thought of at least four comebacks for her statement, but none were right for the moment.
“I can help you again. We make a pretty good team.”
Bree wiggled just a little closer in his arms. “We do.”
Reid knew he’d have to get to the point or lose all concentration forever.
“I was thinking you might want to turn your focus to another family tree. The Knight family.”
Her eyes lit with delight. “What skeletons are in your family tree?”
“Well, none.” Reid dropped his hands from around Bree’s waist.
She took a half step back and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “So what are you getting at?”
“There aren’t any skeletons that I know of, but there is a blank space that’s missing.”
“A blank space?”
“Yes, next to my name. The one for Mrs. Reid Knight. I was hoping you’d do me the honor of filling it, Bree. I was hoping—well, Mandy and I were both hoping, actually—that you’d want to become Mrs. Reid Knight.” He dropped to one knee in front of Bree and pulled out the ring he’d hidden in his back pocket. “Dr. Breanna Lillian Burton, will you marry me?”
He could see the final strips of light from the sunset reflected in the tears that welled up in her eyes. Bree clapped her hands over her open mouth, then stuck her left hand out in front of Reid.
“Yes, yes! Of course, yes!” Her voice was breathless with excitement.
Reid slipped the diamond and platinum band on her fourth finger, then stood, taking her back in his arms again.
“I walked into your office almost fourteen months ago looking for the answer to a treasure hunt. I never dreamed the answer was you. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve uncovered the secrets that stayed hidden for generations and discovered artifacts from civilizations past. But there’s only one treasure in this town I want to keep for my own, Bree, and that’s you. You’re my timeless treasure.”
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PORT PROVIDENT: HURRICANE HOPE (BOOK ONE)
Sample Chapter: Shelter from the Storm
What happened the night Hurricane Hope came to town? Enjoy this sample chapter from Book One of the Port Provident: Hurricane Hope series, Shelter from the Storm.
Ten years ago, Becca Collins caught a bus to Port Provident, Texas because it was as far south as she could get from Wisconsin without falling into the water. She never expected to take another bus to leave. But today, she found herself standing in a line in front of Port Provident High School, waiting to board a school bus headed for San Antonio. Hurricane Hope was expected to make landfall overnight. This was the last evacuation bus scheduled to cross the Causeway which connected Provident Island with the Texas mainland.
The line had been moving consistently, but now there had been no progress in getting aboard the bus for a few minutes. The crowd, mostly made up of women and children, was beginning to get restless. Becca could hear it in the rustle of voices that were beginning to raise above a whisper and in the stirring and stomping of feet as they adjusted the positions where they stood.
She could also feel it in the heavy layer of humidity that had pushed ashore with the first bands of Hope’s clouds and winds.
Damp circles were beginning to soak through the thin cotton of her T-shirt and she felt a sticky clamminess working its way down her spine. She just wanted to get on the rattley yellow school bus and get moving. As the director of the Port Provident Animal Shelter, she’d seen the last dog in her care off the island this morning, headed to a shelter in a northern suburb of Houston. The last group of cats had departed around dinner time yesterday. The animals who had depended upon her would be safe.
The only thing left was to ensure her own safety before the storm arrived. If her compact Toyota hatchback wasn’t on its last leg, she would have just taken matters into her own hands. But most days, she wasn’t sure it would make it to the grocery store. A two hundred and fifty mile trip that was expected to take double the normal amount of time due to heavy traffic congestion? That was out of the question.
In fact, Becca realized, she might have had a breakdown before the little hatchback. The last few weeks had been so stressful. First the showdown at the board meeting with the president—and most unreasonable member—of the shelter’s board of directors, Dr. Ross Reeder. Now Hurricane Hope.
She needed a break and she needed it now.
She also needed to get on the bus. What was taking so long? Becca took a step to the right side of the line, trying to discern the cause of the hold-up.
“I’m sorry. The dog has to stay. We cannot take dogs on the bus or to the shelter.” A blonde-haired lady holding a clipboard spoke with a stern voice that carried over the ever-strengthening gusts of wind.
“But she has to come. She’s my grandma’s dog. She requires a special diet. We can’t leave her behind. She’ll die.” A teenager with a thick black braid down the back of her head spoke up, then gestured at a Labrador retriever near her feet.
“Then she’ll have to stay behind with the dog. The Port Provident Animal Shelter is closed. Your only options are to get on board without the dog or to stay here with her. I’m sorry, but we can’t make exceptions.”
“But Grandma can’t stay. She’s not in good health. I take care of her.” She gave another look down toward the dog’s sturdy head. “And so does Polly. We’re all a team.”
The woman with the clipboard shifted slightly, blocking a little more of the door to the bus. “I’m sorry. Those are the rules. You need to decide. We have to be loaded and en route in ten minutes and there’s a whole line behind you.”
A dog. A grandmother. Becca looked heavenward. She took a deep breath as the memories of Bess popped into her head like fragile soap bubbles.
“I’ll take the dog.” Becca picked up her backpack and slung it over one shoulder, then walked toward the Labrador and her visibly-shaking owner. “I’m Becca Collins, director of the Port Provident Animal Shelter. The shelter is closed. But I’ll stay behind with your dog.”
The girl turned her head slowly. The older woman’s eyes released a stream of silent tears.
“You’ll take Polly? But you don’t even know us.”
“I don’t. But I know all about dogs and grandmothers. And hard choices.”
Becca held out her hand for the leash. With deliberate, almost hesitant motions, the girl pressed the loop end of the leash into Becca’s outstretched palm. Becca felt the worn weave of the purple fabric.
“Wait.” The girl said, reaching into a reusable grocery store bag and pulling out a bag of specialized dog food. “There’s a prescription label on the bag with directions for how to feed her. Oh, and we have to keep h
er well-hydrated.”
“You said her name was Polly?” Becca said, giving the dog a scratch behind the flopped-over ears.
The grandmother spoke. The syllables cracked like popcorn. “Polly Wolly Doodle. I’ll be back for her. Take care of her, please.”
“All the day…all the day.” Becca scratched the dog’s ears again as her own throat tightened. Her own grandmother had loved Shirley Temple movies. As clearly as though it had happened yesterday, Becca remembered pushing a VHS tape in the recorder and snuggling on the couch with Bess, watching Shirley’s little curls bounce as she sang Polly Wolly Doodle. “She’ll be waiting for you when you come home. You’ll find us both at the Port Provident Animal Shelter.”
Before Becca knew it, everything was taken care of. Within two minutes of the last resident of Port Provident taking their seat, the bus was out of the parking lot and the last group of evacuees were on their way off the island. The engine of the bus jumped to life with a diesel-fuel rattle…and then there was nothing but silence.
Becca stood in the parking lot, rooted. The last bus was gone and she was not. She was still in the parking lot of Port Provident High School. With a dog. And a less than half a bag of expensive prescription-only dog food.
She lifted the bag and looked at the label stuck in the center.
Dr. Ross Reeder.
Of course Polly’s vet was Ross Reeder. Because if there was one person she wanted to stay clear of today—well, every day, really—it was Port Provident’s argumentative vet. The president of the board of directors of the Port Provident Animal Shelter, Ross had blocked Becca’s plan to relocate the shelter from the old, outdated facility on Harborview Drive to a building in town that she believed in her heart would give them room to grow.
He’d made every step of the last two months feel like a twenty-mile hike in the mountains. Without shoes. Or a trail.
His Timeless Treasure (Treasure Harbor Book 5) Page 8
