he mean by find?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” Win reached out and grabbed the page of scribbles, the crinkle of the paper cutting through Trey’s well-intentioned escape.
Win turned the page around half a dozen times before saying, “Nothing on this ‘map’ looks familiar to me.”
“Are you kidding?” Hap said. “This here—it’s the peak over near the falls. Just past where they’re a-building that retirement community Millie’s so in love with.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“I’ve seen enough brochures of the place—I can find it in my sleep. And look.” He turned the makeshift map into the light. “Here’s the highway and this is that old ski run. See?”
The two men leaned forward and tried to see what Hap was showing them. Trey gave up trying to keep his distance and went to join them. Curiosity just might kill him.
“You know anything about this?” Sam asked Win.
The air hung thick and full of something Trey didn’t want to take time to identify.
Finally, Win shook his head. “I was a kid when he left.” Win’s faded eyes grew distant. “I remember goin’ to the funeral more than I remember him.” He chuckled softly, not happily. “Jumped half a foot when the twenty-one-gun salute echoed across the valley. All the grown-ups were crying.” He shook his head and reached for the glass Trey set in front of him. His hand wasn’t as steady this time when he took a deep swallow.
Trey saw more than that in Win’s eyes, which met his briefly before skittering away. With a whispered curse, Win climbed down off the barstool. “I’m done, boys.” He shrugged his jacket on and walked slowly to the door. “Put the drink on my tab, Trey. See ya.” And he disappeared into the night.
“Well.” Hap sighed. “That was a waste of time.”
“What were you trying to do, exactly?” Sam asked.
“Get information about this ‘find.’ It’s gotta be a treasure.”
“You’re an old fool. What do you need a treasure for?”
“Are you nuts?” Hap smacked a gnarled hand on the metal walker at his side. “To keep me outta one of them places.”
Sam pursed his lips and lifted his beer to drink. He didn’t say any more. When the bottle was empty, he stood. “Come on, Hap. Let’s go. The weather is getting rough out there.”
“But I ain’t done drinking.”
“Yeah, you are. Let’s go.” Sam tossed a couple of bills on the bar. “Keep the change,” he said to Trey.
Hap grumbled but grabbed hold of his walker anyway. The papers were still on the bar. Trey picked up the glasses and pushed the papers closer to the edge so Hap could reach them.
“Just toss those in the trash,” Sam told him. “No one’s looking for any stupid treasure.” He gave Hap a meaningful glare.
“You always were a stick in the mud, Sam.” But Hap didn’t grab the papers. He turned the walker toward the door and headed home.
Trey stared at the old pages. No way was this the end of it. After putting the glasses in the sink and wiping down the polished wood surface, he carefully folded the old pages and put them back into the envelope. He wasn’t buying the idea that there was any treasure, but there was no way he’d be the one to toss Hap’s dreams into the trash.
No way. He hit No Sale on the cash register and shoved the envelope in where the checks normally went. There was plenty of room as no one used checks these days. Tomorrow, he’d give it back to the three men.
* * *
LISA DUPREY HURRIED across the parking lot, praying the wind wouldn’t catch her skirt. As it was, she was freezing. The calendar might say spring was coming, but the breeze blowing off the Rockies was still full of winter snow.
Finally, she reached the big glass door emblazoned with the frosted image of a steaming pot of soup and a ladle. She loved the company’s logo. Simple, yet it looked warm and inviting. A Taste of Home—Catering and Heartfelt Events.
Who was she kidding? It wasn’t just the logo; she loved everything about her job and her life right now.
Stepping into the lobby, Lisa hurried in, but halfway to the kitchens, froze. Where was Trudy? The receptionist always sat at her desk. When Lisa came in every day, every time she went out to an event, every night when she went home, Trudy was there. She often teased the older woman that she had a bed stuffed under the desk and didn’t really go home at night.
But Trudy wasn’t there now.
Silence surrounded Lisa, and she stood still for a moment, listening, waiting. And then she heard voices. Distant voices. One male, deep, commanding. Marco. The other soft, feminine. That had to be Trudy. They were in the kitchen.
Hurrying down the short hall, Lisa pulled open another glass door and stepped into the gleaming white kitchen area—Marco’s pride and joy. Sunshine poured in the south-facing wall of windows, glowing off the polished floor and counters.
“But you can’t mean it, Marco. That’s so...so wrong.”
“It’s the truth, Trudy. I’m sorry.” His voice was no longer commanding. It sounded—he sounded—defeated.
“But what am I going to do?”
“Pack up and start looking for another job,” he said softly. Was that a hitch in his voice?
“Marco? Trudy?” Lisa called their names to get their attention. Both of them spun around, staring at her, as if surprised she was there.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Lisa said, pulling off her coat and draping it over the tall chair at the raised counter. “What’s going on?”
“M...Marco says we’re closing.” Trudy’s voice shook as she clasped and unclasped her hands together.
“What?” Lisa froze, her breath stuck in her chest. “What do you mean, closing? Like, for the day?” Was there some holiday she’d forgotten?
“No. Forever.” Marco’s voice faded on the last word.
“But...what about all the new clients? The events we’re scheduled to handle?” They’d all been so thrilled when Robert had brought the contracts in. Marco had even taken them all to lunch to celebrate. She moved closer to stop beside Trudy and look at the papers spread out on the table. She hadn’t started working on most of these jobs yet, but she was supposed to meet with Robert in the next few days to get the details.
“All gone. All lies. A ruse to distract us while he stole everything.” Marco threw his hands in the air, and, turning away, he stalked across the big expanse of the prep area. “I’ve got some calls to make. To tell the few real clients we have that we can’t cater their events.” And with that, he disappeared into his office. The door slammed with a loud wham, and, in the quiet it left behind, she heard the lock click.
“Trudy?
