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“Have you had your head in the clouds?” she asks. “It’s all over the news. A tropical storm rolling in off the coast. They say the winds could hit fifty miles an hour, plus an ungodly amount of rain.”
“Oh,” I say dumbly. “I hadn’t heard.”
Mainly because I’ve been too focused on this whole treasure hunt thing to even glance at the local news. But when I check my phone, I see the alerts stacking up – and messages from Mary-Alice, too.
“You should invite your new neighbor over to pass the storm,” she’s texted, along with plenty of emojis. “You told the Kellermans you’d watch out for him.”
It’s clear from the eggplant, peach, and gushing water symbols that “watching” isn’t on her mind.
I tuck my phone away – and try to banish thoughts of Reeve, too.
Snuggled together by candlelight, in front of a roaring fire … the storm raging outside our windows, while inside, a different kinds of storm is unleashed—
Easy, Harlequin Romance, I scold myself, and set about helping Dot prep for the storm: closing all the shutters up tight, getting the trashcans stowed away, and unplugging the computers in case of a power surge.
“We’re all set here,” I announce, looking around. “I’m going to finish up those archive labels while things are still quiet, but you should get home.”
“I will,” Dot says with a smile. “I’ve got a pack of CBD gummies and a chicken pot pie with my name on them.”
I laugh. It seems like everyone has big plans to ride out the bad weather.
Like Reeve, who’s going to be right next door…
I spendthe rest of the day making good use of the quiet in the museum, and getting all those pesky admin tasks done there never seems to be any time to solve. But, by late afternoon, all my weather warning alerts are getting more dramatic, so I figure it’s time to head home, detouring by the grocery store first for my own vital storm supplies, aka, a massive bag of chips, a pint of coffee ice cream and a bottle of wine. I’m still not convinced we’re in for a big one, but I call my parents, all the same, and warn them to bring the chickens in. By the time I pull into the driveway, the sky is already turning black and ominous, the first few drops of rain spitting from the sky as I grab my things and hurry to the house.
Inside, I turn on all my lamps and light a few candles, casting the house in a warm glow as the rain starts coming down harder outside. I change into my softest cashmere lounge set, put on my favorite Nancy Meyers playlist, and collect the ingredients for my ultimate slow-cooking comfort dinner: French onion soup.
Just give me a beach house and call me Meryl, I think with a smile.
I move around the kitchen, happily chopping, stirring, and humming along to Carole King. It’s nice to take a beat to just relax, I’ve been running around all week. And ever since Halloween, my pulse has been racing just as fast.
I wonder how Reeve’s movie marathon is shaping up. I’m making plenty of food here, it would be perfectly neighborly to invite him over to share …
Nope!I turn my attention back to the stove before something goes up in smoke.
Like my burning loins.
With the soup simmering, I go light a fire in the living room, and curl up on my overstuffed couch. The box of old Fortune family papers is still in my bag from when Jessica unceremoniously returned it this morning, and now I can’t resist pulling out all the old pages, which thankfully are still sandwiched between two layers of protective document film.
I lay them on the coffee table and try to look at them with fresh eyes.
Is there something here I’ve missed, after all these years?
I pause, battling between my usual calm logic, and the wild romance of the hidden gold.
I’d written off Jake’s search as just useless grandstanding, but now there’s a tiny voice inside my head that wonders if I might have been wrong. What if the treasure’s still out there?
What if I could be the one to bring it home?
Snatch a discovery out from under him. Prove that I’m the one who has what it takes. He always took the credit for everything I did when we were together, but this time, the win would be all mine.
And God, it would really,reallypiss him off.
Inspired, I’m just about to start reading, when the lights give a flicker – and then go out. I’m plunged into darkness, lit only by the firelight and a couple of Bed, Bath and Beyond’s finest pumpkin/vanilla scented candles.
“C’mon …” I sigh, getting up to go fetch my flashlights. Which, of course, are in my well-stocked emergency kit, stashed in the hall closet. But I’m just rummaging for extra candles, when I hear a sound over the drum of rain on the porch roof.
It comes again, louder.
