Stolen Legacy (Treasure Harbor Book 4)

by Angel Moore

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Surely, after all this time, the Callahans would admit that it wasn’t stolen. Camilla Callahan gave it to Drake.”

  “My family isn’t guilty of the sins of my ancestors, but we could be the object of scorn if the treasure is discovered to be true. With the great reputation the Callahans enjoy in the community, we’d have a hard time proving it wasn’t stolen. The sins of the fathers would land squarely on our shoulders. I don’t know a Burton who wants that to happen. Except my dad, who’s so convinced that the money is rightfully ours that he was willing to give up everything to search for it – including his family. We could have had more than the value of the treasure if he’d have worked with my mom to make something of the business.”

  “So you get your stubbornness from him?”

  He jerked his head up. “What? No. I’m like my mother. I’m committed to the good of the family.” He lowered his head again. “At least, I’m committed to making a success of what she spent her life trying to save. She gave me Swashbucklin' Sweets, and I won’t let it go to pursue a silly treasure. Value isn’t in money, it’s in commitment.”

  “You’re more interested in the past than you confess.”

  “No. The future is my goal.”

  “Preserving what your mother gave you is about your past, too.” She put her pencil down. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. It will help me know where to begin.” She stood up and stretched her tired legs. The long holiday weekend had left her tired. “I’m going to search because I truly need the reward money. And because of your help, I’m going to divide the reward with you.”

  Victor stood. “I don’t want it. Not one part of it. Though I doubt you or anyone else will find anything of value, I do hope you are able to come up with the money to pay the tax bill and keep your shop open.” He looked around. “You’ve done a great job in just a few days. By the end of the season, you’ll be thriving.”

  “I hope so.”

  He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “You’ve made it through more than most people ever face in life. I can’t see you failing now.”

  “It wasn’t all bad, Victor. I had great parents. For a very short time, yes, but they loved me. And after they died, I was safe with the families that took turns caring for me. I know Mrs. Griswold loved me, too. My life wasn’t one of abuse or neglect like so many kids suffer.”

  “I’m glad.” He touched her cheek with his fingers. “I know we didn’t connect when we were younger, but I always knew who you were and hoped the best for you.”

  This revelation of his attention came out of nowhere. He’d noticed her before now? She’d never had a clue. “Thank you. I may not have found a forever family, but I made a lot of friends. I have Buried Treasures now. Building my own life has been a great motivator for me. And Safe Harbor Church has been like my family for a long time. I’m going to make it. No matter how hard I have to work.”

  She covered his hand on her face with her own. “And I noticed you years ago, too. Just so you know.” She dropped her hand and slid it into the pocket of her shorts.

  He smiled and said, “Good night, Mallory. Rest well. You’ve earned it.” Then he left.

  There was so much in his eyes that spoke of a heart full of hurt, yet aching for comfort. She was glad they had become friends. He needed her, whether he ever admitted it or not.

  And Mallory would be there for him. Treasure or not.

  * * *

  Vic unlocked the front door of Swashbucklin' Sweets and turned the closed sign around. He took a broom and went out to sweep the sidewalk. The late July weather was hot and humid, but tourists had filled Treasure Harbor, especially the Harbor View area for the summer. And he was going to make the most of the busy season.

  He swept in front of his store and then started to work on the pavement in front of Buried Treasures. Over the last few weeks, he’d seen Mallory every day. Walks on the beach had turned into picnics. Morning coffee had turned into breakfast. Before he knew it, she was such a part of his days that he couldn't imagine life without her. Sitting beside her in church every Sunday was the best part of it all. He’d finally made his peace with God and was moving forward in life.

  His unwillingness to look back at his past was a problem he refused to think about. He didn’t need anything more than the present and future.

  He looked in Mallory’s window to see what piece of furniture she was showcasing today. For someone who loved the old things in life, she certainly made a point of having a new display out front every morning.

  Movement in the back of her shop caught his eye. She was carrying a ceramic lamp that was almost as big as she was. He tried the door, but it was locked. She made her way to the large desk centered in front of the window and set the lamp down. Then she let him in.

  “I can’t help you if you keep me locked out.” When he said the words he knew they weren’t true. If anyone had locked anyone out, it had been him. Now that they were friends, he was sorry he’d ever wanted to keep his distance.

  He stepped inside to admire the partners desk. She’d been working on it last week when he’d insisted she take a break and come try a new candy recipe he’d perfected. “This turned out great. Do you think there will be much of a market for it?”

  “Lots of people work from home these days.” She took a final swipe at the top of the desk with her dust cloth and then swept her arms wide. “I can just see it on a grand sunporch that’s been turned into a home office.” Her arms outlined the imaginary shape of the space. “Huge windows overlooking the ocean, and a happy couple – one on each side of this desk – laughing and loving and working together.”

  “With a story like that, you’ll have to put something else in the window before lunch.” He laughed, and she swatted at his arm.

  “Don’t you laugh at my dreams.” Her exaggerated pout made him laugh all the more.

  “Never.” He pointed at the desk. “At your fun stories – always.”

  The bell on her door rang, and he waved a goodbye and went back to finish sweeping. It wouldn’t be long before the sidewalks filled with happy travelers who would poke around in the shops that lined the street leading to Pirate’s Pier. He’d be ready like his mother had been every morning. If his mind was on Mallory working next door to sell her furniture, well, no one would know that but him.

  Hunger took over at about eight that night, and Vic left his summer help in charge so he could go in search of supper. Mallory walked out of her shop at the same time.

  “Hungry?” He knew she would be. She always was. She was never still.

  “I am. Wanna join me for a burger and fries at the Ocean Breeze? And a shake?”

  “Not exactly what I should be eating after a day in a candy store.”

  “You don’t eat the candy all day long. Professional tasting by the chef doesn’t count.” She looped her arm in his. “Let’s see if you can appreciate an old-fashioned diner.”

  Agnes was leaving when they arrived. She waved them to a table near the back of the restaurant and called for someone to come take their order.

  Mallory relaxed into her seat. “Were you busy today?”

  “Yes, even for a Tuesday. I think it’s happened. I think I’ve been able to make a go of it.”

  She pulled at the corner of her napkin. “Who can resist candy?”

  “What about your desk? Did it sell?” Her face fell, and he wished he hadn’t asked. He should have just looked in the window later.

  “No. People were intrigued by it, but not enough to take it home.” She shrugged. “A feeling I know only too well.”

  “Hey. Where’s the chipper girl who insisted I eat a burger?”

  Mallory forced a smile. He knew it wasn’t her usual genuine expression. “I’m sorry. Fatigue struck. The desk will sell. Just not today.”

  The server came to their table. “Hi, Mallory. What can I get for you guys?”

  “Hello, Kori. This is my friend, V
ictor Burton.” Mallory gestured to the waitress. “Victor, this is Kori James. She replaced me here when she moved to Treasure Harbor recently.”

  “Hi, Kori. Please call me Vic.” He looked at Mallory. “Mallory can’t seem to remember that.” Having given up on that weeks ago, he winked when his neighbor bristled at his remark.

  “Burton? As in Drake Burton?”

  “A very distant relative.” He changed the subject. “Mallory tells me it’s been too long since I’ve had a burger and fries.”

  “We sell a lot of them.” She jotted down their choices and left them.

  He leaned his elbows on the table and asked, “Do you want to talk about your day or something else?”

  “Something else. I’ve managed to search at three of the spots on your father’s map.”

  “And you found?”

  “Nothing yet. But I won’t give up. I can’t.”

  “Why not? Your shop seems to be doing well. Won’t the money from that help you pay the tax bill? I hate to see you spending time on the beach searching for an elusive dream.”

  “The shop is doing better than I’d have expected for just starting out, but I’m afraid I got hooked on the hunt.” She stretched her neck to one side and massaged it with one hand. Her hair fell in long brown waves over the opposite shoulder. “I’d be tempted to agree with you, but so many people are searching. I’m wondering how much of the tourism trade this year is connected to the articles Lara Callahan has written about it.”

  “Well, I still want it all to go away.”

  “What do you think though? Do you think the tourism has been boosted by treasure hunters?”

  He sat back in his chair. This was the one subject that separated the two of them. “It’s possible. I guess we won’t know until next summer or until the fuss over the rumors dies down. Honestly, I can’t believe it’s still stirring like it is.”

  Their food arrived. Mallory said a quick prayer of thanks and picked up her giant burger with two hands. She nodded at him. “Go ahead. I’m dying to see what you think.”

  He took a big bite just for her entertainment and was instantly sold. He wiped his mouth and said, “Thanks for suggesting this. I haven’t eaten here since I came back home. How could I have forgotten this deliciousness?”

  “Too many fancy meals is my guess.” She broke a fry in half and dipped the open end into a pool of salt she’d poured onto her plate.

  “Oh, that can’t be good for you,” he teased.

  “It has to be. It tastes so good.”

  Once again her playfulness and joy in life’s simple things relaxed him. He’d become spoiled to her company. Maybe he could get beyond the failure of his parents and try to be more than Mallory’s friend. If they kept spending all their spare time together, people were going to assume they were a couple anyway.

  After Pastor Riggins’ sermon on prayer last Sunday, Vic had created a personal prayer list. He’d have to add Mallory and any possible future to the growing list – but it would have to go at the top.

  Chapter Seven

  Mallory packed her tote for a morning at the beach. The sun wasn’t as hot in the first part of the day, and she’d have plenty of time to search before coming back to open at eleven. Wednesdays were her slowest days, so she took the opportunity to open later and give herself some personal time.

  She walked to Pirate’s Pier and met William Burton there. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “I am.” He picked up his metal detector and a canvas bag she knew held small shovels and sifting equipment. “Does Vic know you’re doing this?”

  They began to walk toward the steps that led to the beach below. The tide was perfect for exploring. “He knows I’m looking for the treasure.”

  “But not that you’re searching with me?” He stopped. “Do you think that’s wise? It’s one thing for him to be angry with me. You might be his closest friend. I’ve hurt him enough. I don’t want to hurt him more by befriending you.”

  Mallory could see the sincere regret in his eyes. “You aren’t betraying him. If we find the treasure, you’ll be giving him a financial foundation to build on and carry him through the rest of his life.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Come on. We don’t have long before the tide turns.”

  “That may be true in more than one way, Mallory.”

  “Not if you’re right about what you said when you called last night.”

  He laughed and trudged along beside her in the heavy sand of the dunes. “What are the chances of that? After all these years, I want to hope I’m right, but the odds aren’t in my favor.”

  “I don’t live by the odds, William Burton. I live by my faith.”

  “Call me Will. Everyone does.”

  “Hmm…I can see that fits. You’re a man who follows his own will.”

  “Ouch! Where did the fun-loving treasure hunter go? I want to spend the morning with her. Not with this wise person who cuts to the core and calls it like she sees it.” His teasing tone kept her from taking his words to heart. “Don’t think your faith will find the treasure. I gave up praying for it a long time ago.”

  “If God wants me to have the reward, He’ll help me find it.”

  “Why you?”

  She turned to head in the direction he pointed. “It may not be me. But if it is, I don’t want to be sitting at home while it’s out here waiting on me. Besides, sometimes life should be enjoyed one moment at a time. Even if we don’t find anything, you and I have become friends. I’ve already found something valuable in that.”

  “Try telling that to the tax man in a couple of weeks when your bill is due.”

  They waded through the sea grasses and searched an area Will thought he’d missed earlier. When Mallory left him hours later, he was going to head off in a new direction. No doubt one he’d searched repeatedly over the years.

  If the friendship she’d forged with both Burton men was successful, it would be worth every early morning trip to the beach and every late night tasting chocolate experiments.

  Please, God, heal the Burtons. No treasure is worth what it has cost this family.

  * * *

  Another chair stood on her work table and waited for Mallory’s efforts when she opened up shop after her outing with Will. The front bell announced a customer. The chair would have to keep waiting.

  As she walked through to door from the back of the shop, she said, “Welcome to Buried Treasures.”

  Lara Callahan stood by the partners desk and smiled. “Hello, Mallory. It’s nice to see you again. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  What did the journalist from the Daily Treasure want with her? “Can I help you find something in particular?”

  “I’m not actually shopping today, but I hope you can help me with a piece I’m working on for the paper. I know you’re friends with Victor Burton.”

  Mallory didn’t respond. She had a feeling the last thing Victor would want her to do would be talk to Lara about him. “What is it that you’d like from me?”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to all of the Burton family members for future articles about the story of Drake and Camilla Burton. I haven’t been able to speak to Victor. I think he may be avoiding me. I was hoping you could convince him that I only want to ask him a few questions.”

  “I’m sorry. If you want to know about the history of a piece of furniture here in my shop, I can help you, but that’s going to be the extent of it.”

  “Are you sure? It’s just a small favor.”

  “Please understand. I’ve enjoyed reading your stories. All of them. But, as a true friend, I’m honor bound to respect Victor’s privacy.”

  “Agnes Bluhm told me you wouldn’t help.” She tucked the notepad she held into her purse. “And for the record, I don’t blame you. But I have to try. A good story requires some digging.”

  Mallory laughed. “I can only imagine the resistance you encounter on a daily basis. Your work is evidence of your skill.”

  “Thank you.
”

  “You’re welcome. I look forward to your next story.”

  “You may not always like what you read, but I promise I’ll do my research and only print the truth. Even if not having everyone’s cooperation on a story means that I have to put together the logical pieces of a puzzle to make the picture plain.”

  “That seems fair.” She walked with Lara to the door. “If you’re ever in the market for a piece of history, come back and see me. Most of my furniture comes from the area. And I try to learn something about every item when I buy it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. If I wasn’t on a deadline, I’d look around today. Thanks again.” She gave a small wave of a well-manicured hand as she left.

  Mallory looked down at her hands. It was all she could do to keep her nails and skin in decent shape. The sandpaper and chemicals of her work made the battle constant. “Oh, well. I am who I am. No shame in working hard. Even if the labor shows long after the work is done.”

  She’d been working on the chair in her workroom for nearly an hour when the sound of an antique typewriter alerted her to a text message.

  It was from Victor. “Lunch with me in the kitchen?”

  She typed a quick, “Yes,” and went to check her face and hair in the mirror on the workroom wall. After the time Victor had cleaned her face for her, she’d decided she needed to make sure she was presentable before she greeted customers. It was a downfall to working in the back when there were no customers in the shop, but she used the valuable time to keep the stock replenished.

  Carving out time for the auction she attended every month was another hurdle she’d have to clear by Wednesday of the following week.

  The time on the clock on her closed sign was set to show her return in a half hour when she locked the door and went into Swashbucklin' Sweets.

  “Hi, Mallory,” the young man behind the counter greeted her. “Vic’s in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. Save me a couple of doubloons.” She walked by the counter. “Oh, make it three.”