I had mixed feelings. I thought donating the objects was incredibly generous of her, but I was sad that I wouldn’t be able to continue the appraisal. I told myself that everybody won on this one. Dr. Moss, Nate, and all of us at Prescott’s got valuable experience and exposure. Maudie learned enough to know that if the objects her beloved sister had given her could talk, the history they’d share would span several millennia. But I wanted to do more. I always wanted to do more.
I walked outside into the hot, humid late afternoon sun and blew a kiss as the caravan carrying Timothy and the crew headed back to New York.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
August fifteenth dawned with the promise of high heat and humidity, an ideal day to be on the water.
I arranged for a white stretch limo to drive us to the Perfect Knot where it was berthed at a Portsmouth marina. The limo had seating for twelve, so the six of us, Zoë, Ellis, Emma, Jake, Ty, and me, were able to sprawl. I’d brought a thermos of mimosas and plastic cups, and we toasted our way to the yacht.
Captain Ken dropped anchor two miles out. The yacht rocked gently. The midday sun sent diamonds tripping across the water.
We gathered under a canvas canopy. Zoë wore a white sheath and a wreath of lilies of the valley Emma had picked from the meadow earlier in the day, twirling them around a thin wire frame, and carried a bouquet of red gladiolas. Ellis wore a white linen suit with a red rose boutonniere. I couldn’t stop crying.
Ty kept his arm around my waist, holding me close.
After the ceremony, Zoë turned her back to toss her bouquet to Emma, but Emma stepped aside, shaking her hands, signaling “no, no, no,” and Jake, with the instinct of a baseball player, caught it on the fly. We got a good laugh out of it, and finally I stopped crying.
* * *
I rented the local VFW hall for Emma’s party. The biggest challenge was arranging all the detailed logistics while maintaining the surprise.
With Cara and Gretchen’s help, I was able to arrange for a buffet laden with comfort food, valet parking for the overflow cars at the fairgrounds down the street, and enough bunting to decorate the half-mile stretch between the two lots. Academy Brass would play throughout the evening.
I’d called Lieutenant Commander Silberblatt to invite her and asked that she invite any military parents she knew. I met with the veterans’ associations myself to make my pitch—let’s give the new marine the send-off of a lifetime. I asked Gretchen to organize “military parent” ribbons for the name tags so Zoë could easily recognize her new community. I ordered a hundred small American flags, which would be available for anyone who wanted one at the start of the party.
Ellis and Zoë would tell Emma that they were at the VFW to celebrate longtime VFW member Sergeant Carl Warren’s one hundredth birthday.
Five days before the party, Gretchen came into my office.
“We need to buy more flags,” she said. “Cara just heard from the head of the ROTC program at Hitchens. They’re coming—with past graduates and their families. They expect at least sixty-five people.”
I smiled. “This is great, Gretchen. Call around to all the veterans’ associations and see if you can get an estimate, then buy more flags.”
She smiled. “I’ll get Zach to do it.”
“Even better.”
By the end of the day, we had a solid estimate of 215 partygoers, from students to veterans and their families to Emma’s friends—invited by Zoë and Jake and sworn to secrecy. I told Zach to get us 150 additional flags, and we still ran out.
Saturday was sunny but cool and breezy, more autumn than summer. Emma’s surprise was revealed as soon as she stepped inside the door. As Emma came into view, Academy Brass struck up a rousing Sousa march, moved into “America the Beautiful,” continued with other patriotic songs, and concluded the set with the “Marines’ Hymn.”
Three hours later, when the party was winding down and the crowds had begun to disperse, Emma hugged me tight, rocking a little.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “for everything.” She pulled back. “How do you think Mom is doing?”
“Better.”
“I love you, Josie.”
“You’re so special, Emma. So very special. I love you, too.”
Emma joined Zoë and hugged her, whispering something in her ear.
Zoë hugged her back, and from where I stood, seeing them both in profile, I had a clear view of Zoë’s smile.
* * *
Ty and I moved into the Gingerbread House on November nineteenth, the week before Thanksgiving. The place looked bare.
“I didn’t realize how big it is,” I said, looking around the mostly empty living room. “We have some shopping to do.”
“It’s hard to know where to start.”
“The farm table that was in my kitchen. I was thinking of using it as a craft table in one of the spare bedrooms. How about if we use it as a dining room table on a temporary basis?”
“It’s awfully big. Why not just use the small round table for now?”
“Because I think we should host Thanksgiving dinner. We have so much to be thankful for this year.”
Ty kissed the top of my head. “I agree.”
I went up on tiptoe to kiss him, closing my eyes to memorize the moment, wanting to remember the feeling of acceptance and love forever.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks go to my literary agent, Cristina Concepcion of Don Congdon Associates, Inc. Thanks also go to Michael Congdon and Cara Bellucci.
Thanks to G. D. Peters, who read early drafts of this novel with care and diligence, and to Academy Brass, a quartet that plays the music of the angels, particularly the low notes.
The Minotaur Books team gets special thanks, too, especially those I work with most closely, including assistant editor Hannah O’Grady, for her many insights, and assistant director of publicity (St. Martin’s and Minotaur) Sarah Melnyk, for her guidance and support. Thanks also to director of library marketing and national accounts manager (Macmillan) Talia Ross, the late copy editor India Cooper, cover designer David Baldeosingh Rotstein, and of course, the late executive editor Hope Dellon.
In addition, I want to offer thanks to the selfless souls who volunteer to train service dogs, including Paul DeVito, who helped me understand the process.
To retired USN Lieutenant Commander Cynthia (Cindy) Elaine Barth Silberblatt, who helped me help Zoë, my sincere thanks. To all the members of the United States military—whatever your role, wherever you serve, whether you’re on active duty, in the reserves, or retired, thank you for your service.
ALSO BY JANE K. CLELAND
Antique Blues
Glow of Death
Ornaments of Death
Blood Rubies
Lethal Treasure
Dolled Up for Murder
Deadly Threads
Silent Auction
Killer Keepsakes
Antiques to Die For
Deadly Appraisal
Consigned to Death
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JANE K. CLELAND, who once owned a New Hampshire–based antiques and rare books business, is the author of the Josie Prescott Antiques mysteries, has been a finalist for the Macavity and Anthony Awards, and won the Agatha Award for her books Mastering Suspense, Structure and Plot and Mastering Plot Twists. She has twice won the David Award for Best Novel. Jane is the former president of the New York chapter of the Mystery Writers of America and chairs the Wolfe Pack’s Black Orchid Novella Award. She is part of the English faculty at Lehman College, a contributing editor for Writer’s Digest magazine, and a frequent guest author at writing conferences and MFA programs. She lives in New York City.
Visit her online at www.janecleland.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Acknowledgments
Also by Jane K. Cleland
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
HIDDEN TREASURE. Copyright © 2020 by Jane K. Cleland. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Cleland, Jane K., author.
Title: Hidden treasure: a Josie Prescott antiques mystery / Jane K. Cleland.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020030036 | ISBN 9781250242778 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250242785 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3603.L4555 H53 2020 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020030036
eISBN 9781250242785
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2020
Hidden Treasure Page 30
