Raye Morgan - A Proposal Worth Waiting For - The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever

“Nine years ago?” she muttered, frowning. How could that have any impact on today? She should have taken more of the articles. Too late now. She wasn’t going back there.

Folding the article, she stuck it into a pocket of her jeans, then turned to look at where she’d stowed her suitcase under the bed. Reaching down, she pulled it out, found her key and unlocked it. With her hand, she felt along the lining. It was still there—the little bag of Spanish gold.

Her heart started pounding again. Could it really be a part of the treasure? What else could it be? And why had she found it among her mother’s possessions just a few weeks before?

She shook her head. “Daddy, Daddy, what did you do?” she whispered to herself. Then she closed the suitcase and put it back under the bed, pushing it far enough back so that no one would notice where it was unless they were down on their hands and knees, looking for it. She couldn’t really think of more she could do.

With a heartfelt sigh, she started downstairs. Detouring into the kitchen, she snagged a sandwich on her way out. Suddenly, she was ravenous.

At the doorway, she looked down on the little party on the terrace. Marge and the Texan were having a loud argument. Phoebe and Frank seemed to be taking sides—against each other. Lyla was pouting and playing up to Jimmy. Somehow she had to get past this nightmare bunch and find Marc again.

“Hey, you,” came a half whisper from across the hall.

She whirled, and there he was, just coming out of the library.

“This way,” he said with a jerk of his head. She followed him to a small French door at the end of the sitting room. A moment later they were slinking down a garden path and into the eucalyptus trees.

“You read my mind,” she told him. “I was not looking forward to joining that group.”

“You’re wise beyond your years,” he said, glancing back toward the house. Then he looked back at her, his blue eyes sparkling. “Have you ever been to the car barn?”

She had not, though she remembered hearing about it years before. The car barn had been Ricky’s domain and Ricky’s hobby was race-car driving.

“Never,” she said.

“Until now,” he told her. “Let’s go.”

It was a long walk and they weren’t in any hurry. Stone benches had been set out here and there many years ago. They spent the next fifteen minutes remembering other times they’d been this way.

“The trees weren’t quite so thick then,” she recalled, looking up at the tall redwoods around their path. “You could see the ocean from here.”

He nodded. “I remember when you could see the whole coastline from here, all the way down to the caves and up to the village.”

“I wonder if Carl is back from the caves,” Torie mused. Then memories of the newspaper article popped into her head. “Oh! I’ve got something to show you.”

She pulled out the clipping. “What do you think of this?”

They stopped and sat on a nearby bench. He read the whole thing before he said a word.

“So where did this come from?”

She couldn’t avoid the guilty look her face took on. “I took it from Carl’s room. He had a stack of them, and some old insurance papers in a folder.”

“And this is all you got?”

She nodded. “I just snatched it up and ran like a rat.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, then shrugged.

“I remember this,” he said. “I wasn’t here, but a friend sent me this article when it first came out.” He shook his head as though dismissing the importance of the clipping. “I thought at the time that either someone had a fertile imagination or a new stash of doubloons had been found.”

He looked into her eyes and she frowned. Somehow his show of earnest common sense was ringing false with her. Was he trying to con her for some reason?

“Shangri-La isn’t the only large estate along the coast you know,” he said somewhat defensively. “There are plenty of cave networks too, along with hidden canyons. Back in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the Spanish were all up and down this coast. I’m sure there were many places that were used for hiding various treasures, and I’m sure most people who find them keep it pretty quiet.”

“But they have to let others know when they go to coin brokers to try to cash in,” she noted.

He nodded. “Sure. And that doesn’t happen very often. Mostly, people would rather keep the treasure for themselves. To people like my father, the historical value is more important than the cash you could get for it.”

Was that understandable? Maybe. “Where did the Don Carlos Treasure originally come from?”

“My grandfather, William Canford Huntington. He found it in the thirties. He was trying to map the caves and ended up breaking down a ledge to be able to reach further in. Behind that ledge he found a pile of gold doubloons and other coins, along with some jewels. The bag they had been in had been eaten away, but the coins were bright and shiny as they’d ever been.” He smiled, remembering the stories he’d heard. “But you must have seen it. My father had it in the display case in the library for years.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I ever saw it.”

“It was right in the house all the time I was growing up.”

“That must have been quite an exotic display. But I never went into your house. I wasn’t a guest, you know.” She blinked with mock innocence. “Just a humble servant’s child.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned.

“It was stupid, of course, to have it just sitting there. It should have been in a security deposit box at the bank. But you can’t show it off if it’s not there.”

“Ah, vanity.”

“Vanity and greed.”

He rose and held out his hand to pull her up. She took it, looking into his face to see if he’d had any new thoughts about her.

Just checking, she told herself. But she was disappointed once again. The man just didn’t feel the things for her she felt for him. Pity.

And then they reached the car barn. She never would have found it on her own. It was a large, echoing warehouse-sized garage built into the side of a hill. The entry consisted of a set of huge double doors, but they were impossible to make out in the gloomy forest area. Weeds and vines covered it and years and years of branches and leaves and sifted dirt had been built up against it by the wind and rain. Luckily, Marc remembered where it was supposed to be and once he found it, the two of them worked for a good twenty minutes at removing debris before they were able to pull the doors open.

“God only knows what we’re going to find in here,” Marc said as he cleared a path for her. Before going in, he found the fuse box and threw a breaker, making sure they would have lights inside.

What they found when they went in was amazing. The door seemed to have kept the place hermetically sealed and it was like stepping back into past times. The inside was probably as clean as it had been when Ricky had last been working there. There were six bays, four of them filled with cars. Two of the cars were elegant models from the twenties or thirties, one restored and the other in the process of being so, both beautiful reminders of a bygone age.

“This one’s an Auburn Boattail,” Marc told her proudly. “I helped Rick with it a lot. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous. Like something from an old movie.”

He nodded. “The other’s an old Mercedes. Both these cars were my grandfather’s. When he realized how good Ricky was with cars, he gave them to him, along with this place. Ricky spent all his time here. In fact, most of the time over those last few years I think he lived here.”

Opening a side door, he revealed a small room with a cot and some bedding.