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As laughingly eager as the girls they had once been, they crawled over the dirt and rocks, ruining manicures, nicking fingers.
"Maybe she didn't leave it hidden after all," Margo suggested. "Maybe when he didn't come back and she decided she wouldn't live without him, she just chucked it all. Scattering coins into the sea."
"Bite your tongue." Kate wiped sweat from her brow with a dusty forearm. "The three of us always swore we'd find it, and now that we've actually got a piece, you want to have her taking the treasure into the sea with her!"
"I don't think she'd do that." Muffling a yelp as she scraped a knuckle on rock, Laura sat back on her heels. "The dowry wasn't important to her anymore. Nothing was. Poor thing, she was just a child." She blew hair out of her eyes. "And speaking of children… look at us."
It wasn't the order that made Kate and Margo stop. It was the laughter that rolled out of her. Such a rare sound these days, Laura's low, gurgling laugh.
And getting a good look at one of society's most respected matrons with her hair flying, her face streaked with dirt, her once well-pressed cotton shirt soiled with sweat and grime, Margo laughed with her.
Then she clutched her stomach and pointed at Kate, who was on her hands and knees staring at them. She managed to clutch a rock before the next spurt of laughter rolled her off the cliff.
"Jesus, Kate! Jesus, even your eyebrows are dirty."
"You're not exactly bandbox-fresh yourself, pal. Only you would go treasure hunting in white silk."
"Oh, shit, I forgot." Wincing, Margo looked down at herself. The once spotless and fluid tunic was now filthy and stuck to her skin. She let out a low moan. "This used to be an Ungaro."
"Now it's a rag," Kate said smartly. "Next time try jeans and a T-shirt like the rest of the peasants." Kate rose and brushed the dirt off her denim. "We're never going to find anything this way. We need to organize. We need a metal detector."
"That's actually a good idea," Margo decided. "Where do we get one?''
By the time Margo got back to the penthouse it was dark. She limped through the front door and began stripping as she aimed directly for the whirlpool.
Josh halted in the act of pouring a glass of Poully Fuisse. "What in God's name have you been doing?" Glass cracked against wood as he rushed to her. "Was there an accident? Are you hurt?"
"No accident, and I hurt everywhere." She whimpered as she reached to turn on the hot water. Her fingers cramped painfully. "Josh, if you really do love me, you'll get me a glass of whatever you were pouring and you won't, no matter how much you want to, laugh at me."
He couldn't spot any blood as she eased her body into the water. Relieved, he went back and brought two glasses filled with pale gold wine. "Tell me this—did you fall off a cliff?"
"Not exactly." She took a glass from him and downed the wine in a few greedy swallows. She took a breath, handed him the empty glass, then took the full one. "Thanks."
He only lifted a brow, then went back for the bottle. "I know, you took the girls to the beach and let them bury you in your clothes."
She leaned back, groaned. "I work out regularly now. How can there still be muscles I haven't been using? How can they hurt this much? Can you order me a massage?"
"I'll give you one myself if we can stop playing guess what."
She opened her eyes. She wanted to see if he laughed. If she spotted so much as a quiver, he'd have to die. "I was with Laura and Kate."
"And?"
"And we were treasure hunting."
"You were…" He ran his tongue around his teeth. "Hmm."
"Was that a chuckle?"
"No, it was a hmm. You spent the afternoon and a good part of the evening treasure hunting?"
"On the cliffs. We got a metal detector."
"You got a—" He tried manfully to disguise the laugh with a cough, but her eyes narrowed. "Did you figure out how to work it?"
"I'm not an idiot." But she pouted and, as the water level rose, hit the button for jets. "Kate did. And before you make any other smart comments, go check the pocket of my slacks out there." She sank deeper, sipped wine, and felt as though she might live after all. "Then you can apologize."
Willing to play along, he set his glass down on the ledge of the tub and sauntered into the other room. Her slacks were near the door, less than a foot in front of where she'd stepped out of her shoes. And they were filthy enough to have him lifting them gingerly with two fingertips.
