“What kind of treasure?” Wanda asked.
“Neither elaborated.” I relayed Lissa’s theory about pirates burying gold doubloons.
Dad scoffed. “I’m sure the builders excavated the heck out of the property before pouring the cement. There’s nothing there. Not even a dead body would have been overlooked.”
But what if he was wrong?
Brady offeredhis arm when we stepped out of the café. The weather was cool. Luckily, I’d dressed for a stroll in a soft red sweater over black jeans and flats.
“Want to swing by Flair Gallery?” I asked him.
“Sure. I can always use a dose of art.”
We headed east to Dolores Street, and then north toward 7thAvenue. When we turned into the courtyard, I felt a delicious sense of joy. It had been designed with a Cape Cod feel, its white clapboard buildings trimmed in baby blue and adorned with lots of plantings.
“Are you upset you won’t be celebrating with your dad and Wanda?” he asked, stopping in front of the gallery’s display window.
“A tad,” I answered. “But I’m a big girl. They’ll share pictures.Ooh.” I pointed at a beautiful waterscape. “To have that kind of talent.”
Fiona perched on my shoulder and sighed. “I wish I could paint.” She’d tried. She didn’t have an ounce of talent with a paintbrush, but she was a whiz at gardening.
“Me, too,” I murmured.
“You too, what?” Brady asked.
“I’m just talking to Fiona.” I caught sight of Horace Elias trying to unlock the front door of Time Tinker and struggling, because he didn’t want to lose hold of the piece of paper in his right hand. “Hello, Horace. Late night?”
“Yes, yes. Late.” Hurriedly, he tucked the paper into his pocket. His cheeks tinged bright red, as if he was flustered. “See you.” He tried again to unlock the door and muttered something under his breath.
“Pretty Christmas display.” I motioned to the window, which showcased a dizzying variety of clocks, each one different from the next. My favorite was an old-fashioned clock with polished brass pendulums swinging behind curved glass. A plump two-foot tall Santa referring to a pocket watch stood beside it. “I like the cyclamen in the window box, too.” I motioned to the glossy red flowers. “I planted the same. Aren’t they festive?”
Horace glanced at his left hand which was smudged with dirt. He rubbed the gook off on his trousers.
I said, “It sure can be tedious keeping plants thriving at this time of year, can’t it?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered.
“Are you all right?” I was concerned by the edgy way he was acting.
“I’m fine.” He blew out a breath as if to calm himself. “Fine. Say, did I hear at the restaurant you’ve learned about the secret treasure hidden beneath your shop?”
I laughed. “Not you, too.”
“My cuckoo clock bird chirped something about it the other day.”
“The bird talked to you?” I asked. “About the treasure?”
“Yes.”
I exchanged a look with Brady. He waggled his eyebrows.
Fiona flew in front of Horace’s face and flicked her fingers. He didn’t blink.
“I mentioned it to Glinda,” he said, and hooked a thumb in the direction of Glitz Jewelry, the shop to the right of Time Tinker.
Glinda Gill was the owner of Glitz. A string of fairy lights rimmed her display window. Within on gold lamé fabric lay rings and necklaces and decorative Christmas balls. One of the rings reminded me of the diamond ring Tianna had been wearing. Spectacular.
“According to Glinda,” Horace went on, “her pirate forebearers were living in our neck of the woods in the late nineteenth century. If there’s a treasure, I bet it’s theirs.”
