by Angel Moore
Stolen Legacy
A Treasure Harbor Series Novella
by
Angel Moore
Copyright © 2016 by Angelissa J. Moore
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – without the prior permission of the publisher and author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any similarity to people, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Dear Reader
Inspirational Verse
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Treasure Harbor Series Novellas
About the Author
Books by Angel Moore
Back Cover Blurb
Dedication
To all the readers who make writing worth the journey.
To Author Belle Calhoune for her friendship and mentorship.
And to God for His constant goodness to me.
Dear Reader,
Victor struggles with his family history and doesn’t understand Mallory’s need to connect with the past.
Letting go of past hurts and cherishing the good times isn’t always easy. Some people never manage to do it. Sometimes a conversation can clear up years of misunderstanding. Other times, forgiveness that takes all the strength we can muster is needed. Whatever the case, it’s worth the effort. Valuing the things in life that matter makes life more wonderful.
Thank you for taking the time to read Stolen Legacy. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Days on the beach as a child came flooding back to my mind as I wrote.
I’d love to hear from you. You can reach me through my website at www.angelmoorebooks.com, where you’ll find links to all my books, the latest news, and links to connect with me on social media. You can also sign up for my newsletter on the home page.
The treasures of my heart are my relationship with Jesus and my family. May you have that in abundance in your life.
God bless you.
Angel Moore
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it”
Matthew 13:45-46 KJV
Chapter One
Mallory Reed tripped down the last three steps and stumbled against the heavy, metal door that led to the alley behind her shop. Her shop. The thought was so exciting that she didn’t realize her knee was bleeding. She pushed the door and it banged back against her with a deafening clash of metal on metal. A squeal escaped her as she jumped out of the doorway and into the alley to keep from being smashed as it slammed shut.
She lost her footing and ended up on her seat on the gravel road that ran behind the row of historical buildings and shops on her side of the street in Harbor View. The summer heat was reaching a new intensity as the sun crept its way toward noon.
Victor Burton twisted in her direction. He was carrying a table that had seen better days and must have pushed his door open with his back in an effort to get the table through the rear exit of Swashbucklin’ Sweets.
“Are you okay?” He set the table down and reached out to help her up.
Mallory burst into laughter. “Yes. No thanks to you.” She took his hand and scrambled to her feet.
“Me?” He released her hand so quickly she wondered if he regretted offering it in the first place.
“You plowed out of your door and sent my door flying.” She brushed the seat of her knee length shorts. “I could be sore for days.” She kept laughing until she saw he wasn’t seeing the humor in her situation. “I was only teasing you.” She thrust out her hand. “I’m Mallory Reed. Your new neighbor.” She remembered Victor. He’d been working at his parents’ candy shop as long as she could remember. His dark lashes and brooding nature made him a favorite topic of conversation among the girls in Treasure Harbor, but she didn’t think he paid them any attention. In all the times he’d waited on her, she never thought he’d seen her. Then he went off to culinary school. Now he was back, and she was moving in next door.
“I know who you are.” Victor ignored her hand and picked up the table he’d been carrying. She noticed one of the table’s legs was turned at an odd angle.
“You do?” She dropped her hand to the surface of the table and rubbed it across the patina that told of years of use. “Then why so rude?” She looked up into his face then. His black hair was short with the sides cut close, and the top was longer for a casual, but deliberate, tussled look. He had a few days’ scruff on his face, but the effect was handsome, not unkempt like so many young men wore. But his eyes captured hers. The green was like a river rock, polished and veined with character and time. The colors in the green went from gold to brown like a tide filled with the remains of a storm. There was something deep in Victor Burton that he didn’t want to release. What could torture a man so young? One who appeared to have everything going his way.
He stopped short. “Rude?”
Never one to let things fester, she said, “You refused to shake my hand. That’s not neighborly. It’s downright rude.” She smiled so he’d know she was teasing. Mostly teasing. “We’re neighbors. We should be friends.”
“Our businesses share a wall.”
“And an alley.” She spread her arms wide to indicate their surroundings.
He huffed out an impatient breath. “And an alley. But we’ll both be working so much, I doubt we’ll have time to be very neighborly.”
Mallory reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Oh, please, let’s be friends. I wouldn’t like to think you didn’t like me.”
He looked down at her arm and put the table down. He reached for her hand, and she thought he meant to shake it. Instead he turned her hand over in his, and with his other hand, he gingerly touched her elbow. “You’re bleeding.”
She recoiled from his touch. “I am?” Inspecting her arm, she saw the scrape. “I haven’t had an injury like this since the last time I fell off my bike as a kid.” She pointed at the street beneath her feet. “These rock roads are tough on a girl.” She pulled a paper towel from the pocket of her shorts and wiped at the wound. “I’ll be fine.” She pushed the towel back into her pocket. “Thanks for your concern.” She smiled at him. “That was practically neighborly of you.”
He watched her closely. “Your knee, too.”
She dabbed at the edges of a small cut on her knee. “That must have happened when I tripped on the steps.” She shrugged. “Oh, well, it’s all in a day’s work.”
He gave a small chuckle. “Clumsy when you work, are you?”
“So now I know how to make you smile. Pratfalls.” She pointed at her temple. “Got it. Next time, I’ll try not to bleed.” She laughed with him.
He sobered and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve just got a lot of work to do in the shop.” He picked up the table again. “Getting rid of this old broken furniture is only a start.”
Mallory reached to grab the other side of the table. “You’re not throwing it away!”
“Of course, I am.” He pulled against her grasp.
“
May I have it?” She didn’t let go.
“Why would you want an old table?” He pulled again.
She pointed to the door of her truck. She’d created the logo the week before and had a magnetic sign made.
He read it aloud, “Buried Treasures. Antique Furniture. Sales and Restoration.” He shook his head. “You’re opening a junk store in Harbor View?”
“A junk store? I’m opening a shop that sell pieces that have a history and a story to tell.” She’d leapt at the chance to open Buried Treasures near Pirate’s Pier. The Harbor View area was the best location in Treasure Harbor for locals and tourists alike.
“The past should be left there – and buried deep so it doesn’t show up later to harass anyone.”
“So your foul mood is due to the treasure?” She nodded. “Since you’re a Burton, descendant of the infamous pirate, Drake Burton, you think your family’s past is hurting you.”
The laughter of mere moments ago was gone. The storm in his eyes raged again. “You have no idea.” He set the table in front of her. “You can have it. I’ve got work to do.” He pulled the door to his candy store open and disappeared into the interior.
Mallory was dumbfounded. He’d turned on a dime. Gone from brooding to playful and back to brooding so quickly her head was swimming.
Perhaps his ancestor’s legacy of thievery and stealing the heart of the daughter of the town’s founders still rankled. After over two hundred years, why didn’t he just accept it as part of his colorful history? Surely no one bore a grudge against him personally for the sins of his forefathers.
She rubbed the surface of the table and squatted to inspect the damaged leg. Just as she suspected. Nothing a little wood glue and some elbow grease couldn’t fix. She stood up to carry it inside as his door opened.
Victor looked around the door carefully, as if afraid he might knock her over again. “If you want the other pieces, you can have them.” The gruffness was gone from his voice. It was an olive branch for his earlier behavior. And she took it.
“I’d love that!” She bounded up the two steps and into his doorway. He was as close as a breath when she stopped to ask, “Which way?”
* * *
Vic took a steadying breath, and his senses filled with a light fruity scent. Mallory smelled wonderful. And she obviously had no respect for personal boundaries and space. He pressed against the jamb to keep from brushing against her and pointed. “The pieces I don’t intend to keep are in that corner.” She flitted across the floor like a school girl in the direction he indicated. She was so full of life and excitement.
He didn’t understand how she could be so happy. Everyone in town knew she’d grown up in foster care. She’d been too young to remember much about her parents when they’d died in a car crash. Many had been willing to foster her, but most had considered her too old to adopt. Yet she still managed to ooze joy. He couldn’t decide if it was refreshing or annoying.
Mallory was poking around in the corner. She seemed happier about this pile of old furniture that had outlived its usefulness than most of the little girls who came into the front of Swashbucklin' Sweets hoping for a favorite treat.
“You can have any of it that you want, but you have to take it today. I’m going to be setting up new displays in a few days.”
She spun to look at him in disbelief. “You can’t mean you’re getting rid of all of this.”
“It’s old. I have a new vision for the store.”
“But your mom spent years perfecting the personality of Swashbucklin' Sweets. It’s part of the charm of Treasure Harbor. You can’t disassemble it.” She walked through the opening to the front of the store and spun in a slow circle. “You’ll take away the magic of this experience if you change it.”
He followed her. “I’m going to update it. History belongs in the past.”
“You said that already.” She wasn’t looking at him. And there was no condemnation in her voice.
She went from one thing to another, touching it. “This case is the first place I ever saw a starfish shaped chocolate.” She turned and pointed across the room. “And I sat at that table with Mrs. Griswold for my first fancy chocolate. It was filled with raspberry cream. I was so afraid I wouldn’t like it.” Her voice became quiet, and she was lost in the memory. “I didn’t want her to be disappointed if I didn’t.”
“Did you?” For some reason he hoped she hadn’t disappointed the woman.
“Did I?”
“Did you like the candy?”
She looked at him and gave a small chuckle. “No.” Her pink lips pulled up at the corners. Her rich, brown eyes danced. “But it was okay. She didn’t like it either.”
“What?” He put a hand across his chest in mock offense. “We served candy that Mrs. Griswold didn’t like? That lady loved all candy.”
Mallory nodded in agreement. “I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to spit it out, but didn’t dare. She handed me a napkin and pronounced it the worst piece of candy she’d ever put in her mouth.” Then she laughed again.
“You’re not worried about hurting my feelings, I see.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to get you to taste my candy.”
She drew her brows together. ‘Your candy?”
“Yes. My candy. I’m reworking the recipes Mom used and putting my own twists on them.”
“But the town and tourists love Swashbucklin' Sweets. There are some things that shouldn’t be changed.” She pointed to the second display case. “Like that peanut butter and cereal bar.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out some money. “I need one of those.” He stepped behind the counter. “Make it two.”
He reached for the tongs and a small treat bag with a pirate’s chest logo. He hated the constant reminder of his family’s history, but Mallory was right – to a point. Some history couldn’t be buried. He might have to keep the name, but he’d make the store his own. And he’d stay far away from the treasure hunt that had the entire town in a frenzy.
Mallory put her money in his hand and took the bag. “I don’t know how I made it through the entire morning without coming in here.” She sat on a chair near the window, watching the tourists and opening the bag. “Have you ever wondered where they’re going?” She took a bite of the candy and made a humming sound of enjoyment.
“Nope.” Vic pulled a chair from one of the tables and carried it to the corner in the back room. He hoped he had enough funds set aside to replace everything. So many of the furnishings were worn with age and use. When he came back into the front of the shop, Mallory still sat staring out the window.
He went behind the counter and took his mother’s mirror off the wall. He almost dropped it when Mallory cried out, “Not that!”
It took a few seconds for his heart to slow to a normal rhythm. “Why not?”
“It’s how you know you’ve chosen the right candy.”
He lowered his head to stare at her. “What are you talking about?”
“When I choose the candy, then I come here to pay.” She stepped over two paces to stand across from him on the opposite side of the old-fashioned cash register. She made a motion that simulated handing him money. “When you put the money in the register, I see my face in the mirror.”
“So.”
“So…a happy face in the mirror means I chose the right candy. If not, I might need to choose something different.”
“I don’t know what gave you that idea. The mirror is there because my mother never changed anything. It was probably hung there by my father.”
“Your mother gave me that idea.”
He stood still. He’d watched his parents argue on many occasions in this shop. Why would Mallory think his mother wanted to see her reflection in the sad state of affairs that was her marriage?
“She told me when I first got tall enough to see myself when I stood on this stool.” She pointed at the old stool his mother had kept on the customer side of the counter so children could climb up and see the candies on the top
shelves of the case. “She said that was her favorite part of owning a candy shop. Watching the happy faces of the people who came here. She wanted to share that happiness with them.”
He didn’t know what to say. “She never told me that.”
Mallory’s voice was quiet. “Maybe she didn’t think you’d understand.” She walked to the doorway to the storeroom. “I’ll be back in a bit to get the furniture.” She held up her bag. “Thanks for the treats.”
And she was gone. He stood holding the mirror, thinking of his sad mother wanting to bring joy to the people of Treasure Harbor. When all it ever brought their family was pain.
Chapter Two
Mallory shoved the last table Victor had given her into the back corner of the workroom and stepped to the center of the room to inspect the space.
It had taken five years of waiting tables and eating innumerable packets of quick-cooking noodles to save enough money to open her own shop, but she’d finally done it. No more mornings serving breakfast to others and refinishing a piece of furniture during the afternoon when she worked a split shift. Now all of her time would be devoted to making a success of Buried Treasures.
She brushed the loose tendrils of hair that fell across her face away with the back of her hand. The morning had flown by. All of her personal belongings were upstairs in her new apartment. Pastor Riggins had come by her old apartment with a few of the men from Safe Harbor Church. They’d loaded her belongings into her truck and the two they’d brought with them.
Carrying everything up the stairs hadn’t taken long. Moving from such a small apartment had been a blessing. She was grateful not to own too much. It could have hindered her from finding help to move. She’d have to take a special treat by the church office as a thank you for the men.
Mallory went into the front showroom and shook her head. As much as she loved the antique pieces she’d collected over the years, she’d known they would be her initial stock for her new store. Her rooms upstairs were almost bare, but the pieces she’d restored over the last five years and used for her personal furniture were sure to bring a good price and help her build a strong business. How had God made all of this possible?
