Josiah's Treasure (43 page)

Lily and Marguerite sat painting in the midday sunshine, their heads close together as they whispered secrets to each other, the coils of their dark hair resting against their identical cheeks. Lily, the most attentive of the twins, looked up when she heard Sarah descending the rear steps from the kitchen.

“Sarah, come and see. Marguerite has painted the strangest rose ever!”

“Lily,” her sister complained, “don’t be so mean!” But then she giggled, knowing her sister was only joshing. The girls laughed often. When they weren’t whispering. “It really is awful, Sarah. Tell me I can stop trying and can go inside to help Mrs. McGinnis make shortbread.”

Sarah inspected her painting. Although the girls were almost physically indistinguishable—and Sarah had spent the weeks since they had been in San Francisco making plenty of mistakes when it came to addressing them—they did not have identical personalities or abilities. Lily was quick-witted and more sociable, Marguerite more apt to weigh her thoughts and not as talented as Lily seemed to be at everything. They were loved equally, however, by one doting brother and his future wife.

“Marguerite, it is not awful, but you are thinking too hard
about the underlying pencil work and not letting the lines flow.” Sarah bent down to demonstrate, her hand sure as she sketched petals and sepals and stem.

“I will never be that good,” said Marguerite, while Lily watched with rapt attention.

“I wasn’t always, either.” She handed back the pencil and straightened. “I had a very good instructor.”

She could mention Edouard without any of the regret or sorrow she’d once felt. With Daniel, she’d come to know real love and had asked God to forgive her foolish heart. She was at peace.

“I think you’ve both done enough painting today,” she announced. “Clean the brushes, scrub your hands, and go help Mrs. McGinnis with that shortbread. Your brother should be here soon and he’ll be looking forward to lunch.”

They hastened to tidy up and then raced each other to the back door, almost colliding with Daniel as he stepped through.

“Whoa, you wild animals!” he exclaimed, evading both them and Rufus, who had chosen the same moment to dart out of the house and into the garden to chase a sparrow.

“Sorry!” the girls said in unison, ducking by him.

“With my sisters living here, you know we’ll never have a moment’s quiet,” he said, coming up behind Sarah as she folded the girls’ painting aprons. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he tucked her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Good morning, Miss Whittier. Glad you’re home. I was afraid you might be at the shop.”

“Lottie’s managing the studio today.” Sarah set down the aprons and leaned against his chest, reveling in the feel of him. Soon, she would have Daniel every morning and every evening, no longer needing to separate at day’s end when he returned to the hotel and she shooed two energetic young girls to their bedrooms before collapsing on her own bed, happily worn out by work and the making of wedding plans. Eight more days. That was all. “And I believe it is afternoon, Mr. Cady.”

He spun her within the circle of his arms until she faced him. “Sinclair likes to talk almost as much as he likes to eat breakfast, but his real estate agent friend has settled the Placerville property sale. That land is going to bring enough money to let me establish my import business, so the meeting was worthwhile.” He smiled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Although why I let him ramble on when I could be here with you, doing this . . .” The kiss moved down her face to her lips, and she lost all sense of place or time.

Eventually, she pulled away but not out of his arms, her face warm, her heart filled with love. “Mrs. McGinnis will be waiting lunch for us.”

“She can wait a few more minutes.” He lifted one of her hands and brushed his lips across the back of her fingers, his gaze never leaving her eyes. “Who would’ve thought when I came to San Francisco looking for Josiah’s money that I would find you instead? I thank God every day, Sarah.”

“As do I, Daniel.”
Thank You, Lord. Thank You.
Smiling, Sarah slipped her fingers free and tidied his collar, knocked askew by their embrace. “Did you ever hear from the Grays?”

“I did. I got a telegram this morning, in fact. They send their best wishes, but, no surprise with the baby just having been born, they won’t be traveling west to visit for some time.” He sighed. “I do wish—”

“We agreed to not let your grandparents spoil our happiness,” Sarah interrupted, knowing what he was about to say. They had invited the Hunts to their wedding and upon receiving no reply, had both decided to wish them well and try to forget all their cruelties. “So let’s not mention them.”

“At least your aunt and uncle are coming to our wedding,” he said.

It was going to be an uncomfortable reunion, the only possible cloud over the most wonderful day of her life. But they had agreed to attend, surprising Sarah, and she would do her best to
heal old wounds. “Tell me again you won’t be mad at them for how they once treated me, Daniel.”

“I’m too happy to be mad at anyone. Even your aunt and uncle. Even my grandparents.” He twined her arm around his and held it against his waist. “I am hungry, Miss Whittier, and would like some of your housekeeper’s excellent lunch. Shall you accompany me?”

“My pleasure, Mr. Cady.” She smiled her fullest smile. “My dearest one.”

He matched her smile with a wicked grin of his own. “Keep talking like that and we might have to skip lunch altogether.”

She laughed. “Come on, you incorrigible man.”

So together they strolled across the garden toward the house. The house where they would share love. Create a family. Build a future.

“You know,” Daniel said, “I wouldn’t have minded if more nuggets had turned up. I would’ve bought you the fanciest diamond ring in town.”

“You are the only treasure I need, Daniel,” Sarah responded.
The greatest of Josiah’s treasures—his son and my beloved. The treasure of my heart.
“The only treasure I will ever want.”

He hugged her in tight as they climbed the back steps and chuckled. “Yes, indeed, Miss Whittier, I like the way you talk.”

Grateful thanks go:

To, as ever, my agent, Natasha Kern – for your tireless support and thoughtful critiques. My work is always better because of you.

To Candace Calvert – you have read everything I’ve ever written . . . and propped me up more times than I can count. Bless you!

To Donna, Pat, Beth – looking forward to many more afternoons spent talking shop. You guys are the best.

To the folks at Worthy – for your patience and prayers during a difficult year.

To my family – who else would put up with me!

And lastly to my readers – I do this for you. You have all my appreciation.

Nancy Herriman
retired from a career as an engineer to chase around two small children and take up the pen. She hasn't looked back. To her delight, her writing has received enthusiastic praise from readers, best-selling authors, and industry insiders alike. When she is not writing, or gabbing over lattes about writing, she is either watching history shows on TV or performing with various choral groups. She lives in Ohio with her husband and sons, and wishes there were more hours in the day. Learn more online at
www.nancyherriman.com
.