Stolen Legacy (Treasure Harbor Book 4)

by Angel Moore

  She handed him the first mount, and he hammered it into place. “So you have time to stand around looking out the windows?” She couldn’t resist a chuckle as she teased him.

  “No. I came to the front to see what all the noise was.” He took the other mount from her and kept working. “You are a noisy neighbor.”

  “I’ve only been here two days.” She picked up the mailbox and waited while he inserted the screws into the mounts that would hold it to the wall.

  “My point, exactly.” He stepped back and motioned for her to hang the mailbox.

  She found the holes, and he tightened the screws when she stepped back. “That makes it official.”

  “What? A mailbox?” He laughed and handed her the tools. “I’d have thought the lease would have done that.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “A mailbox says, “A life happens here.’”

  “I never thought about it like that. I always saw it as a place to get bills and bad news.”

  She traced the numbers she’d painted on with gold metallic paint. “Who knows what romantic missives or life-changing announcements were placed inside this box over the years.” She’d drifted away to a happy life she’d imagined so often that it was almost real in her mind. “I only hope that good things will come to me now that it’s mine.”

  “Well, it’s been my experience that things like the bill Amber delivered this morning come more often than happy surprises.”

  Mallory looked him in the eye. “You’ll never be happy if you only see the sad things in life. Believe me, I know.”

  He paused and held her gaze before he nodded. “You’re right. I’ve had too much of the sad stuff to expect the happy things.” He pointed at the mailbox. “But with a mailbox fixed up as fancy as this one, good things are sure to come to you.” Mallory wasn’t sure he meant the words, but it was good of him to say them.

  She bubbled out of her nostalgic dreams and said, “So, will you help me find the treasure?”

  “No.” He handed her the last tool and left her on the sidewalk.

  * * *

  Vic wiped the counter clean and slid the last tray of candies into the display case. He looked around the shop. There weren’t enough places for the crowd that would come on July 4th to sit. He’d have to figure out a way to fix that before Friday. The traffic would pick up steadily as tourist arrived in Treasure Harbor before the holiday next Monday. That gave him two days. Maybe Mallory would let him use some of her pieces. He could put a tent card on the table with the price to show people where they could purchase the furniture.

  He opened the door and headed to her shop before he decided to talk himself out of the idea.

  A ringing bell over the front door announced his arrival. He wasn’t surprised she’d chosen something so quaint to alert her to the arrival of customers.

  Her alto voice came from the workroom. “Have a look around. I’ll be out in just a second.”

  A black cage fan sat atop an old dresser and stirred the air in the space. Swing music played on the working jukebox in the corner. He smiled at how she made all these old things inviting in a room that still had a surfboard hanging on the wall behind the cash register.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Mallory wiped her hands on a red rag as she came through the doorway. “I had to wipe the top of a table I’m refinishing so the stain would be even.” She looked up then and saw him. Her breath caught. He saw the slight widening of her eyes and was inexplicably pleased that he’d caught her off guard. And that she didn’t seem unhappy to see him there.

  “Hi.” He didn’t mean to stop there, but that was the only word that came out.

  “Hi.” She tucked the rag into the back pocket of her shorts.

  “Looks like you’re busy.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the front entrance. “I can come back later.”

  She took a step closer. “You don’t have to go. I’m not too busy.” Pink tinted her cheeks.

  Mallory Reed was blushing. At him. He’d be tempted to tease her, but he felt heat creep up his neck. What was happening here? And why?

  Or better yet, what was he thinking? Nothing was happening here. He knew better than to allow any flirtatious or romantic reactions to enter his association with Mallory. She was a dreamer. A woman living her life in the past and all she could grasp of it, while he was a man determined to move away from his. Nope. Nothing was happening here.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” Her voice was quiet, and he knew she was forcing out her words.

  “I don’t have enough seating for the rush we’re going to have over the holiday weekend.”

  “Do you want me to return the things you gave me? That’s perfectly fine.” She turned to walk back into her workroom.

  “No. I’d like to borrow some of your things. Tables and such.”

  “Borrow?” She faced him again. “It’s my first weekend open, and I don’t have a lot of inventory. I’d be glad to give you back your furnishings, but I really can’t service my customers if my inventory is on loan.”

  “I was thinking that you might loan me some tables. Maybe even a few chairs.” She was shaking her head, but he continued. “You can put prices on everything. I’ll put a tent card on each table showing the price. You can tag the chairs.” He leaned closer, hoping she’d see his sincerity in thinking the idea would benefit them both.

  “Price them?” She took a step toward him. “How many tables are we talking about?”

  “Well, I’ve still got three good-size tables. What if I borrow one of your larger ones and two small ones? I think I can manage if you have four chairs I could use.”

  Mallory put her thumb beneath her chin and tapped her nose with her index finger while she considered his proposal. She looked around the shop at all her offerings. Her hand dropped in a quick motion. “You can use two small tables. I can finish repairing four of your chairs by Friday morning. That will take care of the seating.”

  “Sure you can’t spare another table?”

  “Nope. I don’t want the place to look or feel empty for this weekend. If I sell a lot of stuff quickly, I may even have to come grab those from you.” She raised her eyebrows in a playful way that made him laugh.

  “You drive a hard bargain for someone who wants me to be their friendly neighbor.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She pointed out the two tables he could use. “You can come get them on Friday before you open.”

  “Thanks. I’ll come to the front door if it’s okay with you. They’ll be easier to move into shop that way.”

  “That’s fine.” She opened the front door. “Now go, so I can get to work on those chairs. Don’t want your tourists sitting on sticky chairs with varnish that hasn’t dried.” She waved her hand for him to leave like a teacher shooing the last kids from class at the end of a long day.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned sideways to slide past her and out the door. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Oh, you’ll see me before then.” She grinned. “I’m sure to make too much noise again soon. And I haven’t had any candy since yesterday. I hope you made some more.”

  “I did. Just now, as a matter of fact. Some fresh raspberry-filled chocolates.” He laughed and left her in the doorway.

  For someone he wanted to avoid – needed to avoid – Mallory was drawing him closer every day. He might need to let the part-time helper he’d hired for the summer fill her candy orders in the future.

  Her laughter still rang in his ears when he stepped behind the counter and looked into his mother’s mirror. He’d hung it back up after Mallory’s explanation. Looking into his own eyes told him he was only fooling himself if he thought he could avoid Mallory. Happy eyes in a mirror were an unusual sight for him. Especially his own happy eyes.

  Could he let go of his family’s past and make a happy future with someone? His parents hadn’t been able to do it. Even if he could, would Mallory wan
t him? He carried an awful lot of baggage from his past. Not the kind of things that could be sanded down and refinished, but things that had wounded his heart and healed over with ugly scars. He doubted she’d see any real value there.

  * * *

  Friday morning dawned with the promise of sunshine for the holiday weekend. Vic had worked late into the night on Thursday to have the display cases full of candy and extra stock in the kitchen waiting for the crowds he prayed would come. Well, at least he hoped they would come. He hadn’t been much of a praying man since his mother and father divorced.

  School had kept him busy, and he’d used it as an excuse not to attend church. He still believed in God. He just wasn’t sure God still believed in him.

  A tapping on the glass drew his attention to the front of his store. Mallory smiled and waved when she caught his eye. He checked the clock his mom had hung on the back when he was a child. The long licorice hand showed fifteen minutes before the hour of opening. The smaller lollipop hand creeped toward the peppermint candy cane shaped nine. It still made him laugh to look at that crazy clock. His father had commissioned it from a friend who made clocks. It was one novelty he would always keep. It represented a time in his parents’ marriage when they had supported one another. The sweetness of that day might have been as fake as the candy on the clock face, but it was a rare moment he treasured.

  Maybe today he would begin to see the turnaround of the family business.

  He turned the lock on the door and stepped onto the sidewalk with Mallory. “Good morning.”

  “Hi.” She rubbed her palms together, and her eyebrows danced like someone plotting a secret scheme. “Are you ready for the tables?”

  “Yes.”

  She had propped the double doors to her shop open earlier, and now she almost skipped through them. He followed her with a chuckle.

  “You’re in a very happy mood. Too much caffeine already? It’s not even nine o’clock.”

  Mallory shook her head and hummed her, “Unh-uh. Don’t need it. I’m too excited about my grand opening today.” She stopped by one of the tables they’d talked about him using. “Well, maybe not grand by everyone else’s standards, but the fact that I have my own store and the people from the chamber of commerce are coming by to cut a ribbon at ten o’clock is grand enough for me.”

  “I didn’t know you were doing a ribbon cutting today.” He grabbed the opposite end of the table she stood by. “We best get these things out of your way then.”

  Together they moved the two tables, and he came back for the chairs.

  She was standing in the doorway to her workroom and held up a hand to stop him. She angled her head a bit to one side. “Now, don’t let the colors scare you off.”

  “Colors? You didn’t restore them to their original stain?”

  She wrinkled her face as if searching for the right words. “Not exactly.”

  He took a step closer, and she took a step back with her hand still out. From this distance he could see mischief in her eyes. “What have you done?”

  “I had an idea that I’ve been wanting to try. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

  “Let me see.”

  She stepped to one side, and he saw the eight chairs he’d given her lined up in a row. They were all different, but somehow they went together. A sea green paint was prominent on all of them, but the accent colors were different. Some had horizontal slats on their backs, while two had vertical supports. Soft blues that were almost gray, a touch of navy, and hints of sail cloth white accentuated the detailed carving on the chairs. The colors all worked together in a beachy, coastal way.

  “Wow. You really know your stuff.” He was surprised. It was like something he’d seen on television for a paint store. The palette of hues drew everything together. “I’m glad to see my junk store assumption was wrong. You’re sure to succeed with this kind of workmanship.” He looked up at her. “Thank you for letting me use these for the weekend.”

  “They’re yours to keep.”

  “I couldn’t. You put too much work in them.”

  “The chairs were yours. You just needed to see how they could be given new life. It’s a way to keep the old and enjoy a sense of newness at the same time. I think your mother would be pleased to know you are using the things she gave you.”

  She could be right. He hadn’t really considered how his mother would feel when she came to visit if everything was transformed. He’d never want to hurt her. Swashbucklin' Sweets wouldn’t be his if it wasn’t for his mother’s kindness.

  “You must let me pay you then.”

  “No. I had been wanting to try this technique but didn’t have the right furniture. You did me a favor.”

  “I insist. You can’t work for free.”

  Her brows lifted ever so slightly and a small smile pulled at the corners of her pink lips. “We can settle on it after the holiday.” She made a show of checking the pendulum clock that hung over a sideboard that gleamed from a fresh polishing. “I’ve got a few things to do before the chamber people arrive. And I know you’re going to open soon.”

  They both grabbed a couple of the chairs, and he said, “Okay, but on Tuesday, we’ll get this sorted out.”

  “Fine. Now let’s get these moved so you can sell me some treats. I’ve got to take a tray of goodies to the church Sunday for the men who helped me move.”

  Mallory picked up her box of assorted candies and waved goodbye.

  Watching her go, he hoped she’d have a great weekend of sales. She was so determined to succeed but still took time out to help him. It felt right to wish her well.

  The chairs looked great in his store. He’d never have thought the old furnishings could be used to any advantage. Having Mallory next door was turning into a blessing in many ways.

  The front door opened to his first customer of the day. He best keep his mind on his own business. Mallory wasn’t the only one who needed to have a financially lucrative weekend. She was pretty. Very pretty. And sweet. And a lot of other things. But he had to focus on his future. The next door neighbor threatened to keep him from thinking about his work at all. And that would never do.

  Chapter Four

  Mallory smiled for the newspaper photographer as she cut the red ribbon using the giant scissors the chamber president handed her. If only Mrs. Griswold could see her now. She’d probably sit on the church pew Mallory had placed on the sidewalk in front of her shop window and smile right along with her. All the years of saving and scrimping had worked. She was here now. Buried Treasures was a reality.

  After the ceremony, she served punch and cookies to the people who wandered around looking at her wares. Agnes Bluhm came up to her with a snickerdoodle in one hand and a punch cup in the other. “This is so nice, Mallory. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “Thank you for coming, Agnes. It’s a day I’ve dreamed of for a long time. I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

  “It looks like you’ll be an instant success.” Agnes held up her cookie. “This was a great choice. You’ll have people shopping while they eat.” She took a small bite. “I noticed the sign saying the cookies were from Swashbucklin' Sweets.”

  “Yes. Victor and I worked out a trade. He’s using a couple of my tables and advertising them for sale. I’m giving samples of his treats.”

  “It’s smart to build a good relationship with your business neighbors. Never hurts to promote a friend.”

  She leaned closer to Agnes and lowered her voice. “Well, we’re not exactly friends yet. I’ve asked, but he’s holding back.”

  “Oh, never you mind that. He’ll come around.” She popped the last of the cookie into her mouth. “I’ve never seen a smart young man who was able to resist a woman like you for long. And he’s a smart young man.”

  Mallory didn’t want her former boss to get the wrong idea. “No. It’s not like that. We aren’t interested in one another.”

  “We aren’t, are we?” Victor’s voice c
ame from close behind her. The look in his eyes could be hurt or indifference. She couldn’t tell which. Oh, why didn’t she stay quiet? She knew talking out of turn always got her in trouble.

  “I’m sorry, Victor. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

  “It’s Vic. I keep telling you, and you keep ignoring me.” Now she knew it was hurt. That was the last thing she wanted to do to him. Or anyone. Somehow it wounded her to know she was the cause of more pain to him.

  To Agnes he said, “But thank you for thinking I’m smart.” He gave the older lady a wink and handed Mallory a small white box. “I brought some different sweets. Just in case you ran out.” He turned and walked out of her shop before she could think what to say.

  The joy of the day ebbed out of Mallory. Offending another person with unkind words wasn’t like her. Why had she felt the need to tell Agnes there was no relationship between her and Victor? Vic. She couldn’t make herself call him that. He was named to be a victor – an overcomer. Vic sounded too much like a victim. Even if she had been party to his hurt, she wouldn’t speak continued defeat over him. And she’d apologize again. As soon as the doors closed tonight.

  * * *

  Mallory sat on the back steps and waited for Victor to come out to his car. She’d peeked in the front window five minutes earlier and seen him shutting down his store. His car was parked in the alley. The red machine was only a couple of years old. Perhaps an indulgence in a time when he didn’t know how bad his parents’ business had been doing. Nothing about his current demeanor spoke of a man of extravagance.

  No sound came from his shop. She stood to stretch her back and noticed the stream of light under his door was gone. Where was he? She waited another minute before going through her shop to see if she could get his attention through the front window. Darkness met her there, too. The closed sign was turned to the street, and the only light in the interior was the one he’d left on behind the counter as a security measure. It cast a soft glow over the interior so the police would notice if anything was amiss.