“What was it?”
“She said, ‘Where there’s smoke…’ That was it. Nothing more, but I know she was trying to give me some information about the money.”
Wade rubbed his finger along his jaw. “I wonder what she meant.”
“I think I know.”
Meg turned to stare into the back of the pickup. Spencer sat forward and gripped the back of her seat.
“You know about the money, Spence?” she asked.
He looked at Jenny. “Remember that day we went exploring, Jen? Remember what we found?”
She nodded. “Right. The grave.”
Wade speared her a look in the rearview mirror. “What grave?”
“The horse’s,” Spencer said. “Smoky’s. It’s behind the barn down by the river.”
An icy shiver crept down Meg’s spine. “Uncle Stewie’s horse is buried in our backyard?”
“It’s not that unusual, honey,” Wade said. “Since I’ve been here I’ve heard stories about the locals burying pets in their yards. Apparently it’s a common practice around here.”
“But a horse?”
He shrugged. “It’s not the only strange thing your uncle ever did.”
She jostled his arm. Amelia’s strange clue suddenly made sense. “Then that’s where the money is. Smoky’s grave. Hurry up, Wade. We’ve still got daylight. Let’s find it.”
Jenny and Spencer led them to Smoky’s burial place. A small marker bore the animal’s name and stood at the head of a mound of weed-covered earth. Wade and Roone began digging carefully so they wouldn’t disturb the remains of Stewart’s beloved mare. After a few minutes, Wade’s shovel hit a solid object. Ten hands scratched at the earth, finally uncovering an old metal box whose lock had rusted away.
“Looks like we’ve found Stewart’s treasure,” Wade said.
Meg held her breath as he lifted the lid.
The stench of mold and mildew filled the air. Wade upended the box, dumping scraps of sodden paper and a pool of slimy liquid onto the ground. He scowled at the puddle and then looked at Meg.
“That’s our treasure?” she said. And then she remembered. “The flood of 2002. Mr. Acres at the bank told me about it. It destroyed the files in the office of Amelia’s attorney.” She frowned down at the soupy mess. “And obviously our fortune as well.”
Wade poked among the monetary scum with a stick. “Which might have amounted to a grand total of three or four hundred dollars from the looks of what’s left,” he said. “These are only fives and tens.”
Meg gaped at the slop. “That’s all Stewie saved from his ventures, his casino, his scams?”
Roone picked up a slippery piece and watched it disintegrate between his thumb and finger. Then he started laughing. “I wish these crazy old folks around here could see what all the fuss was about.”
Wade’s response was a slow-building chuckle. “If Uncle Stewie was saving for a rainy day, he sure as hell got one.”
Meg joined them until all three adults had convulsed against a giant oak tree.
Spencer backed away. “What’s the matter with them?”
“They’re nuts if you ask me,” Jenny said. “I sure would like to have three hundred bucks.”
“Me, too.”
The children walked back to the house shaking their heads. Meg fell into Wade’s arms and felt the tremors of his laughter merge with hers. The mystery of Stewie’s fortune was solved, and it was really very simple. The real treasure of Ashford House wasn’t in greenbacks and never had been. The true value of Stewart and Amelia’s legacy was its tradition, its lasting ties to the past, its faded glory destined for greatness once again.
As Wade’s arms tightened around her, Meg knew that it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d discovered three hundred dollars or three hundred thousand. She had everything in life she’d ever wanted.
ISBN: 978 1 472 02659 0
YOUR HOUSE OR MINE?
© 2005 Cynthia Thomason
First Published in Great Britain in 2005
Harlequin (UK) Limited
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Your House or Mine? Page 25