“What?” Charlie Grace narrowed her eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my father?”
Clancy chuckled. “I’m just saying, there are trunks and crates full of old stuff in that barn attic. Could be something worth a couple thousand in there.”
Aunt Mo tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve fought Charlie Grace on every single thing she’s done with this place, and now you’re all for some reality TV show digging through your things?”
Clancy shrugged, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Well, I like that show. Watch it all the time. And if it fills up those guest cabins next summer, then what’s the harm?”
Charlie Grace blinked, completely taken aback. She glanced at Aunt Mo, who looked equally stunned. After all the arguments they’d had over the years about modernizing the ranch, she never thought she’d hear her father say those words.
From the very start, she’d braced herself for his usual grumbling about the whole ordeal, convinced he’d complain about the disruption and shake his head at the absurdity of it all. Instead, he sat there, calm as a lazy spring morning, not just tolerating the idea but—was that a hint of amusement on his face? The man who had fought her at every turn when she’d converted the ranch was now casually suggesting they might strike gold? It was almost too much to process.
“Grandpa’s right!” Jewel bounced excitedly. “This is so cool!”
Charlie Grace exhaled, taking in the eager expressions of her daughter and aunt. And now even her father, of all people. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be such a disaster after all. Certainly, Nick was on board with the idea and had gone to great lengths to line everything up.
She straightened, rubbing the small of her back as anticipation took root, pushing aside the last of her reservations. A slow smile crossed her lips as she leaned over the rake and looked up into the blue sky. As the sun bathed her face in warmth, a new feeling settled over her—anticipation.
Treasure or not—tomorrow would undoubtedly be a day to remember.
19
Charlie Grace woke before dawn. She flipped on the bedside lamp, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before pulling herself from under the downy comforter and heading to the closet. What did one even wear to a television filming?
A mix of excitement and nerves pulsed through her as she rifled through her clothes, debating between casual and polished, finally settling on a fitted denim jacket over a soft, earth-toned blouse and dark jeans—put-together but still true to her ranch roots.
After slipping into her favorite pair of boots, she stood at the mirror, sweeping on a touch of mascara and blush, then smoothing a hint of gloss over her lips. Satisfied but still buzzing with anticipation, she pulled her hair into a loose braid and headed downstairs.
She barely made it to the landing before she stopped short. There, standing in the middle of the living room, was Jewel.
Charlie Grace blinked. “Oh. Oh no.”
Her eight-year-old daughter had clearly dressed herself, and the result was...a spectacle. She wore a sequined tutu over her jeans, a bright yellow T-shirt featuring a sparkly unicorn, cowboy boots—with bright pink knee-high stockings peeking over the top—and a red feather boa draped over her shoulders for added flair. Atop her head sat a tiara.
“Jewel.” Charlie Grace pressed her fingers to her temple. “Honey, what are you wearing?”
Jewel beamed. “My TV outfit! I want to sparkle for the cameras.”
“You look like a Vegas showgirl who got lost on a cattle drive.”
Her daughter grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“No, ma’am.” Charlie Grace gently gripped her daughter’s shoulders and spun her around. “Upstairs. Aunt Mo will help you find something...less bedazzled.”
“Fine,” Jewel huffed, stomping up the stairs. “But if I don’t look amazing, I’m blaming you.”
Charlie Grace took a deep breath and turned toward the kitchen, only to be met with her father, Clancy, rolling in like he owned the place. He was wearing his Sunday best—a navy suit, bolo tie, and cowboy boots polished to a mirror shine. A custom Stetson sat perched on top of his graying head.
“Dad,” she sighed. “Why are you dressed like you’re meeting the president?”
Clancy puffed his chest. “Gotta look sharp for the cameras. Might get discovered. Never know when Hollywood’s looking for a silver fox.” He winked.
Charlie Grace pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re not being discovered. And you might want to tone it down just a little.”
“Too late. Already committed.”
Before she could argue, the distant sound of an engine caught her attention. Then another. And another.
Charlie Grace walked to the window and groaned. A line of cars snaked down the lane toward the ranch.
