Page 8 of Moonshine and Magnolias (Just Add Peaches #1)

She shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “Not unless you believe ghosts linger around and guard their prized possessions.”

The wistfulness in her voice turned the guilt in his chest into a ball of molten lava. This went far deeper than her unflappable facade. It was the perfect opportunity to use her hidden vulnerability for his own needs, but even he had limits. He picked up the letters.

“Thank you.” She snatched them out of his hand and scurried into the hallway. “Come with me and we’ll set up you and your brother.”

He followed the scent of peaches.

Topographical maps of the area and formal portraits of the Clayton family decorated the lobby’s cream-colored walls.

A black ribbon hung from the one of Maybelle Clayton.

Wendy lifted her hand briefly as she passed by.

It was those little actions, almost like she didn’t realize what she was doing, that kept him intrigued.

Wendy thumbed through the flyers of local businesses on the display rack. “Your visit to Georgia simply would not be complete without seeing at least one replica of a giant peach.”

“The ones in your orchard aren’t up to snuff, then?” Rob asked.

“Not unless one has become mutant. And those were cleared when we had the Society for Mutant Fruits out last month.” She handed him the brochure. “What are your thoughts on Prohibition?”

He was beginning to enjoy her subtle sense of humor, but the mention of Prohibition had his hackles rising. That was dangerous territory. His great-uncle had been on the enforcing side of the despised law, working for the Bureau of Internal Revenue. “What do you have?”

“The Hall of Bootlegging. Did you know moonshiners evading the police was the precursor to NASCAR?”

“As I tell my clients, you learn something new every day.”

Wendy handed him another trifold from the rack.

“If you’re willing to have your historical sanity level tested, you can visit the museum dedicated to Pansy Hamilton,” she said.

“She’s a local hero that saved the town from destruction during the war.

We have a festival in her honor at the end of every summer. ”

That was the name on the contract, but it didn’t sound familiar, and this area of Georgia hadn’t seen much action during either the Civil or Revolutionary Wars. “Which one?”

“You’ll just have to go and find out.”

Her teasing tone gave him a surprise and let some of her inner personality escape. “Pansy Hamilton it is. Thank you. Do you want to come with us?”

“Ah...” she glanced at her phone.

Rob held up his hands. “I’m not on your to-do list.”

“There are a lot of things I have to get done today.” Cool Wendy was back in charge, leaving exposed Wendy behind. “Maybe another time.”

Hal met Rob by the large front door, and the two men got into their rental car without speaking. Rob drove down the shaded three-quarter mile to the street.

“What did you see in the office?” Hal asked when Rob finally pulled onto the main road.

A glimpse of heaven. “Very little. Filing cabinets and boxes. One desk, very old, nothing usual at first glance.” He recited the list with levelheaded ease, though he wanted to lie and insist there was nothing worth investigating. “Fire place. Supply closest. Nothing that screamed ‘look here!’.”

“Okay.” Hal made some notes on his tablet. “We’ll have to check the closet, the mantle around the fire place and the desk for hidden spaces or drawers, and maybe tap around the walls. I bet we can get in the office any morning and not get caught. The staff seems to avoid it. ”

If Rob didn’t ease the image of the innkeeper from his mind, he’d never accomplish his distasteful task. “The problem is Brandi Clayton. She seems to always be where we’re not expecting her.”

“We might want to play that up some, see what you can get out of her. Damn, she’s hot. Even with those weird eyes.” Hal waved a finger in front of his own face. “What’s that called?”

Apparently his brother thought Rob was a walking encyclopedia. In this case, he was right, since Rob had come across historical figures with the condition. “Heterochromia. When the irises are different colors. Partial in her case.” One was brown, the other brown and green.

“It’s freaky to look at, but I could get used to it for the rest of the view.” Hal pointed out the window. “Turn right at the next light. Good thing small towns take so long to change. The rock formation Uncle Louis described in his journal might still be there.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if X really did mark the spot?

” Rob turned the car onto a side street surrounded by lush green lawns.

The clear blue sky promised a day of sunshine.

Rain would have been more appropriate for his mood.

“Just once I’d like to have a normal family vacation where I don’t have to crawl around dusty archives or dig near alligators. ”

“If we don’t find the treasure at the house, we can compare the journal with our pictures and find a new search area.

My gut tells me whatever Uncle Louis left behind is somewhere in the walls of the inn.

I can’t believe Maybelle Clayton died the week before we were supposed to arrive.

Don’t say it.” Hal held up his hand. “We needed a break before we started this part of the trip. How could we know the old woman would keel over while we were chasing beach babes?”

Rob had stayed in the hotel room, diligently reading through his uncle’s diaries, while Hal had showed up only to shower and change clothes. “We could have not chased the beach babes. And by we, I mean you.”

“Whatever.”

Rob rolled to a stop next to a sprawling one-story building. Gold columns decorated the porch by the front door and a row of carts sat waiting for the people milling about with golf bags swung over their shoulders.

This did not bode well. In the distance, Rob spotted a glimpse of a large, gray rock standing sentry in the middle of the gently rolling, definitely man-made landscape.

“ The granite is so much a part of the landscape that it almost escapes notice beneath the beauty of the Georgia oak ,” Hal quoted from the journal and let out a quick exhale. “Not so much anymore. Damn.”

Rob rested his hands on the steering wheel, tapping his finger while he sorted his thoughts.

“This is the last time I’m doing this, Hal.

I’m serious. The chances of us finding whatever Uncle Louis lost are miniscule, and I’m not going to ruin the rest of my life looking for something that might not even exist.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me that people are still uncovering Civil War heirlooms? Lost silver ewers and family treasures and gold coins? Come on. We still have to look.” Hal closed the car door behind him. “I bet the Angels Eyes are gemstones. Emeralds or sapphires.”

“In literature, any time a curse has to be broken, the treasure has to be returned to its owner.” It was an old argument.

Hal gave the old response. “We can figure that out once we find it. If we don’t, someone else will. Since nothing came up on your research about someone finding a cache of hidden treasure, it’s still there. And don’t you want to fulfill Dad’s dying wish?”

“He’s not even sick.”

“He might be, one day. And then how will you feel if we don’t break the curse and he never reunites with Mom?”

“Same way I feel now. Like he should have paid attention to her instead of spending his time looking for something that might have less value than a cornflake.” Rob shook his head. “Let’s just get this over with. There’s a museum I want to visit.”