“That’s the thing. I have no idea.” Her fingers fluttering with excitement, Penny flipped open her laptop and logged into her email. “The diary remained in the Burns family for years, until Bryce finally sold it.”
“Typical.” Eliza rolled her eyes. “No qualms about selling off family heirlooms to the highest bidder.”
“And not just any bidder,” Penny said with an air of reverence. “Edwin Mackensie, an eccentric billionaire. I think he’s even wealthier than Landon.”
Eliza whistled, duly impressed.
“My dad brokered the sale,” Penny continued. “Although, he tried to talk Burns out of it, since he believed that kind of history should stay with the town.”
“I agree with him,” Cassie said, once again perturbed by the mayor’s questionable moral compass. Did he really have the town’s best interest at heart?
“Why did Edwin even want a diary about an obscure small town, anyway?” Eliza asked, struggling to stomach another bite of liver.
“He collects historic diaries. He’s never confirmed or denied the claim, but as legend goes, he even has one of Princess Diana’s diaries in his personal collection.”
“ThePrincess Di?” Eliza gasped. “I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t know if I do, either,” Penny admitted, “but I also wouldn’t put it past him. Edwin and my father forged a casual friendship while they negotiated the diary deal, and eventually Dad went on to find a few other items for him, too. He said Edwin was the most interesting man he’d ever met and had an uncanny way of getting exactly what he wanted.”
“Wait.” Cassie frowned, trying to connect the dots. “You said you don’t know where the diary is?”
“Not exactly.” Penny clicked on a recent message, expanding it to fill the screen. “After the town hall meeting, I found Edwin’s contact info in my dad’s old Rolodex, and I sent an email asking if he’d be willing to loan us the diary for the festival. This is what he wrote in return.
“You asked for a favor, and I’ll happily oblige.
Your father was a friend, a truly great guy.
He liked solving riddles, hiding treasure to find.
Let’s see if his daughter is of the same mind.
If you can solve all the riddles to a count of four,
Then the diary you seek will surely be yours.
But be warned, lest you quit before you start.
These clues of mine aren’t for the faint of Heart.”
Cassie leaned back in confusion. “I don’t understand… What does it mean?”
“I think,” Penny said, eyes sparkling, “if we solve all the clues—sounds like four in total—and find the diary, he’ll give it back to the town.”
“It’s a treasure hunt!” Eliza cheered, bouncing on the edge of her chair.
Cassie glanced between her friends. Their excitement radiated across the table. A real-life treasure hunt organized by an eccentric billionaire? She supposed stranger things had happened. But would they have time to solve all the riddles before the festival in three weeks?
CHAPTER5
DONNA
Donna parked on Main Street but remained in the driver’s seat, cocooned in the safety of her run-down Corolla. Townspeople shuffled past her dusty windshield carrying boxes of colorful streamers and bunting, no doubt preparing for some festival. In Poppy Creek, there was always another festival.
Starry-eyed tourists strolled the cobbled streets, gazing in awestruck delight at the charming window displays of cute and quirky establishments like Thistle & Thorn, an oddball antiques store, and Sadie’s Sweet Shop. The chalkboard sign out front advertised an afternoon taffy-pulling demonstration and something called a nitrous ice cream sundae. Today’s flavor? Grenadine and Gold Dust.
Strange how so much could change and yet, inexplicably, stay exactly the same. The town, with its historic brick, stone, and shiplap buildings and slow, sleepy tempo, still felt trapped in time.
Of course, she realized that was part of the allure. Most people viewed Poppy Creek as this idyllic slice of heaven tucked into the northern California foothills, a secluded pocket of small-town hospitality. A respite from life’s weariness. A home away from home. And maybe to some people—like her daughter—Poppy Creek reallywasall of those things. But to Donna, the town held nothing but painful secrets. It had left scars as deep and real as the one on her knee. The one from the serrated edge of the drain pipe. From the night she’d climbed through her window, too drunk to notice the slicing pain followed by the trickle of blood down her leg. The night of her father’s funeral. The night that changed everything.
