LITMIR.BIZ

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looked back and you dropped your brown paper sack and macaroni noodles went into the air like a bomb had been set off, and the little dog jumped out of your arms and began to bark its head off.”

      She winced. Some memories were just too painful. The sense of humiliation she’d felt that day came back to her in a wave.

      “So I turned around. By the time I got back to you, you had it all back in your arms, but you looked like you were going to drop everything again any minute. I told you to give me the dog and the groceries.”

      “And I thought you were going to ride off with them and leave me there.”

      “But I didn’t. I stashed the groceries in my pack and the little dog in my shirt, and then I reached down for your hand.”

      She laughed softly, staring off at the blue horizon. “And I felt like Cinderella,” she said.

      She remembered that feeling. As though the prince had asked her to dance. She’d been on cloud nine all the way home, even though she knew he wasn’t exactly enjoying it as much as she was. Still, the most handsome boy she’d ever seen was being nice to her—for the moment. It made her whole summer brighter.

      “I named him Snowcone,” she mused. “I loved that little dog.”

      “Whatever happened to him?”

      Her face clouded. “My father insisted on sending a notice to the paper and the real owners showed up three days later.” She shook her head. “I begged him not to do it, but you know what my father was like. Strictly by the rules.”

      Marc looked at her speculatively and she raised her chin. She knew it sounded as though she was feeding him her vision of her father’s character, but she didn’t care. It was the truth. He might not know it, so she might as well let him in on it.

      “Yeah,” he said, then looked around to where they’d tied the horse. “I guess we ought to get going.”

      She nodded and followed him, still amazed and gratified that he’d remembered so much. There hadn’t been many incidents between the two of them but what there were still shone like gold in her memory. She pulled her way up to ride in front of him again, wishing they could just head on down the beach. She closed her eyes and felt Marc’s arm tighten around her.

      But the ride slowed and finally came to a stop.

      “We’re here,” he said, close to her ear, and she sat up straight and looked around.

      The village had an old-fashioned, quaint look. Red-tile-roofed cottages were scattered all up and down the hills, most with flower gardens overflowing with blooms. Boats filled the small marina, many apparently working fishing trawlers. The business district boasted a coffee shop, a small market with bait shop, a real estate office and a rustic tavern with a wooden statue of an ancient mariner out front. The place looked about as it must have looked in the 1920s when it began as a tiny beach resort.

      “You ready?” he asked her.

      “Ready for what?” she asked, still floating in the mellow nature of the sunny day and only half interested in anything else.

      “Ready to talk to Griswold.”

      She turned to look back at him. “Who?”

      “Griswold. Don’t you remember him? The chauffeur. He was there when it all went bad.”

      “Oh.” She shivered and steadied herself. “Oh!” Griswold. Of course. He might have some answers. He was just exactly who she needed to talk to. She turned and smiled at Marc.

      “Perfect,” she said, starting to get excited. Then she looked at him in wonder. He really was going to help her. “Thanks. This is...really cool.”

      He laughed softly and shook his head, still holding her against himself as though he really didn’t want to let her go. “Let’s go see him before you get too appreciative,” he warned. “You never know.”

      “Of course.” She set her shoulders and tried to get tough. This was important. She couldn’t be getting all silly over Marc and expect to maintain the sharp edge she was going to need if she was going to get anywhere.

      They pulled in closer to the front of the tavern and dismounted. Marc tied the horse to a post at the entryway.

      “Where did you get this nice horse?” she asked, stroking its velvet nose and getting a snuffle in return. She knew that Shangri-La didn’t have any horses these days, though they’d had a well-stocked stable when she’d lived there before.

      “I went down to visit with an old rancher down the road,” he said, stopping to give the animal a pat as well. “Both his sons were friends of mine in high school and now they’re both in the military. He’s having trouble keeping his livestock exercised, so I volunteered to take this little lady out for a spin.”

      “She’s a beauty,” Torie agreed.

      Two girls in tiny bikinis with beach towels thrown over their shoulders strolled by on their way to the sandy shore. They gave Marc the eye with youthful enthusiasm, making Torie laugh.

      “Girls always did like you, didn’t they?” she noted as they gave him a backwards look and disappeared around a corner.

      He glared at her. “You think that’s funny?” he challenged. “You try living with it. They’re everywhere and they’re a pain in the neck.”

      She laughed harder. “Poor baby. Such a burden.”

      He turned and glared at her, then paused as though really seeing her for the first time. A slow smile crept into his eyes. “I’m sure you get your share,” he said.

      Her laughter faded and she was suddenly uncomfortable. “Not me,” she said, trying for a light tone that didn’t quite work. “I’m not the type.”

      “Baloney.”

      A new warmth had come into his gaze and it was heating up her cheeks.

      “You’re not very self-aware, are you?” he said as he finished up securing the horse.

      Now she was embarrassed and blushing crimson—but not in a bad way. She’d never considered herself a beauty and she knew in her heart of hearts that she wasn’t. At least she never had been before. She was pretty enough on a good day. But she didn’t have a face that turned heads. And yet something in Marc’s eyes was telling her that she did, and suddenly, she was walking on air.

      He smiled and gestured toward the tavern. “Shall we go in?”

      She turned looked at the door, just a bit hesitant. “How do you know Griswold is in here?”

      “From what they tell me, he’s always in here.”

      He took her hand in his and she took a deep breath. This could be it. This could be where she finally learned the truth of what had happened all that time ago. She looked up at Marc. He gave her a wink and she smiled. Time to face her father’s past as if it were her own. She lifted her chin and walked in.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      MARC let Torie go ahead and followed a few steps behind. This was her show, her quest. He wasn’t even sure why he was supporting her this way. She said she was here to find out what really happened fifteen years ago, whether her father was unfairly accused, whether he shouldn’t have been fired. If that was true, if that was really her goal, she was basically trying to prove his family’s actions wrong—maybe even illegitimate.

      And where would that take them all? Did she think she could find the truth—or maybe even the treasure—somewhere and show them all her father had been slandered?

      Not likely. Insurance investigators and the police had both taken their turns at searching for the gold. And then, through the years, treasure hunters had come sneaking onto the property to try their own

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