Page 31 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Eighteen

Brec sighed as he sat next to Aunt Lilly outside the Lake Loon pavilion, where they’d just celebrated his aunt’s 70th anniversary at Lake Loon with a barbecue feast. He couldn’t resist a sideways peek at Molly while she roasted a marshmallow on the other side of his aunt, the wonderful scent of wood smoke filling his senses with contentment along with the beautiful glow of Molly’s face in the firelight. A handful of people had stayed after—Cat and Chase, Cat’s sister and sister-in-law, Shannon and Lacey and their spouses, Pastor Pritchett, Sloan Kennedy, and Pete Benson, one of the two Lake Loon Lads who still lived on the lake. A gentle and quiet man who always made Brec smile when he flirted with Molly on their jogs past his house, Pete seldom spoke, even now while everyone reminisced around the fire, which lit up the night along with a melon moon that striped the lake with its wavering glow.

Cat sat next to Sloan on the other side of Molly, teasing her when Molly’s marshmallow fell into the fire. Everyone chuckled except for Brec, who offered a stiff smile, thinking he may as well have fallen into the fire as well. Because the kiss he’d given Sleeping Beauty last week had definitely singed his heart with the need for more.

And he sure in the devil wasn’t talking marshmallows.

“So, Brec, how long are you in the States?” a friendly and distinguished man said on the other side of the circle. His short dark hair and silver sideburns were befitting of the magistrate Aunt Lilly had introduced as, the highly touted Judge Alan Murray. Supreme Court nominee, Chief Judge on the Washington D.C. Court of Appeals, and one of Uncle Hal’s favorites of the “Lads.” And Brec could certainly see why because for all Alan Murray had accomplished, the man’s manner seemed unassuming and his smile as warm as his tone.

“As long as Aunt Lilly needs me, Judge Murray,” Brec said, glad it was dark because he could feel the heat singeing the back of his neck as hotly as the blazing fire before him. He was never comfortable discussing his career or the scandal that forced him back to the States. He looped an arm around Aunt Lilly to deflect his discomfort, flashing a bright smile to convince everyone that his career was the least of his worries. “Or till she throws me out.”

“Call me Alan, please,” the man said, following suit to hook an arm around the pretty blonde beside him, a classy-looking woman who appeared to be in her late forties with a smile far cooler than her husband’s. “Marla and I are mighty relieved to see a strapping young man like you staying with Miss Lilly, given the trouble she’s had of late with the break-ins and all.”

Sloan Kennedy glanced up from roasting his marshmallow, his expression suddenly sober. “Do you mind if I ask how you heard about that, sir? Because we were actually hoping to keep that quiet so as not to alarm the Lake Loon community.”

Alan’s gaze flicked from Sloan to Miss Lilly and back, an unspoken apology wrinkling his brow. “Why, from my mother-in-law, Muriel, of course, who’s good friends with Miss Lilly.”

“Whoops.” Miss Lilly snuck an impish peek at Sloan. “When you said keep it under wraps for now around the Lake, I didn’t think that meant 500 miles away, Detective, so I apologize.”

Directing a polite nod to Miss Lilly, the deputy sheriff cleared his throat, voice lowering to a professional tone as he turned back to the judge. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir, this is an ongoing investigation, so your silence would be greatly appreciated.”

Surprise flickered in Judge Murray’s eyes along with the reflection of the fire. “Of course, Detective, and I will certainly alert my mother-in-law to that fact as well.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sloan turned his attention back to Molly with a look warmer than the stupid fire, which burned Brec’s mood considerably.

“So, Miss Lilly,” the judge continued with a leisurely stretch of legs, eyes twinkling as he took a drink of his beer, “Muriel tells me you’ve been finding buried and sunken treasure, both from your garden and out of the lake.”

“Oh my, yes,” Miss Lilly said with a chuckle, giving a sideways nod to Molly and Cat on her left and then to Shannon and Lacey next to them. “These four over here surprised me with a newly weeded garden, which just tickled me pink. Put in a whole passel of new plants afore I came home, they did, and dug up a number of old coins in the process.” She tipped her head in tease. “Buried, no doubt, by you and your cohorts, young man, both in the garden and in the lake.”

“Uh, guilty as charged,” the judge said with a boyish smile, nudging Pete with his elbow before massaging the back of his neck. “Did Uncle Hal ever say how many he was missing?”

“Well, now, I’m not rightly sure.” Her gaze wandered off into the fire, her smile half-hearted at best, as if she were thinking back over all the times she’d enjoyed family and children around the cottage. “Found a few myself over the years, including one ol’ Cal Martin fished up out of the lake”—a sparkle returned to her eyes, chasing her melancholy away—“no tellin’ how many are still down there knowin’ you boys and your pirate games.” She gave a little shrug. “But I always just tossed ’em into the rusted coffee can in my garden shed till Molly insisted on washin’ ’em up and puttin’ ’em in Harold’s collection bag just in case they were the real thing. S’pose I’ll have to have ’em appraised one of these days ’cause heaven knows I wouldn’t know a plain ol’ metal doubloon from a shiny gold piece of eight.”

The judge chuckled. “It’s a good thing we couldn’t tell either after Uncle Hal bought those fake ones because we sure thought we were rich as King Midas whenever we raided his drawer.” He glanced over at Pete with a grin. “Remember that, Pete?”

“Sure do,” Pete said with a quiet smile and a nod.

“As if we could forget.” Pastor Pritchett shook his head, his smile almost as melancholy as Miss Lilly’s. He flashed a grin Brec’s way. “But we always tried to sneak ’em back in the drawer, of course, before Uncle Hal found out. Until Blaine got the bright idea of putting all of them in Miss Lilly’s sewing box, which in all fairness, looked just like a treasure chest. I’ll never forget how he caught the wrath of God when she found all her needles and thread dumped in the trash.”

“The wrath of Miss Lilly, you mean,” Alan said with a wink at Brec’s aunt, “and Uncle Hal when he found out Miss Lilly’s sewing chest lay at the bottom of the cove after we boys tipped the canoe in a pirate fight”—he winced, smile sheepish—“filled with one or two of Uncle Hal’s real doubloons along with a passel of the fake ones.”

“No!” Molly’s hand flew to her mouth, humor twinkling in her eyes along with firelight.

“Oh, yes.” Miss Lilly shook her head, laughing along with Brec and the rest. “I was fit to be tied, for sure, but not as much as poor Harold. Apparently he’d left his collection open on his desk to visit the little boy’s room for a moment, and that’s all it took for Blaine to snatch several loose doubloons Harold hadn’t slotted yet. That’s the second time he discovered the boys had been sneakin’ his real doubloons, and glory be—the poor man was as red as a ripe tomato, ready to pop. Heaven knows how many of his real ones were in that chest, now sunken treasure for the fishes. So I definitely had to teach that pirate a lesson.”

“A sewing ‘lesson,’ if I’m not mistaken,” Brec said, remembering all too well the many stories his father had told him of his “pirate” days at Emerald Cottage. “He told me how mortified he was, having to spend the day threading needles on the deck while the other boys heckled.”

Pastor Dave laughed. “Couldn’t help it when we saw him sewing up a storm, patching a whole passel of Miss Lilly’s clothing, including nightgowns and underwear.”

“Better than a-walkin’ the plank,” Miss Lilly piped in with a rusty chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Chase popped another marshmallow stick into the fire as he gave her a wink. “Seems to me an eight-year-old pirate would rather walk the plank for a swim in the lake than mend a woman’s unmentionables.”

“I’ll go along with that,” the judge said with a grin, taking a sip of his bottled beer. “After Blaine’s sewing lesson, it cost each of us an afternoon scrubbing duck poop off the dock and other chores as I recall.”

Pastor Pritchett raised his bottled water in the air with a wince. “Don’t forget Blaine getting grounded from using Uncle Hal’s fishing boat and two canoes for an entire month.”

“Oh, that’s right.” The judge rose to deposit his empty beer bottle into a nearby trashcan with a shake of his head. “Which meant all six of us had to pirate the seas in my dad’s sole fishing boat instead of the two canoes, nearly causing a mutiny, especially between Roy and me.” He paused to glance across the lake. “And speaking of Roy—why isn’t he here tonight?”