Francesca showed him the crinkled yellow map, which they’d laminated to protect it.
“Let’s go hunt for buried treasure, my lady,” Benjamin said, opening the side door that led to the stairwell.
Down they went. It had been a little while since Francesca had gone down or up a set of stairs, and she gripped the railing, feeling frightened. When they reached the bottom, her eyes widened at the tremendous fire damage down here. It was all charred black walls and piles of ash. She remembered that Angelo had lit the fire down here. That Benjamin and Jack had been down here when it had begun. It was a miracle that they’d gotten out.
A sliver of fear went down her spine.
Benjamin set off through the tunnels at a slower pace than he might have wanted, probably because of Francesca’s health. She was grateful for it. Frequently, he stopped and said things like, “This is where we used to keep the surplus of vegetables,” or “This is where Angelo kept his drugs and his drug money.” Theypassed the service elevator, where it was said the fire began in the basement and spread to the rest of the Lodge.
They went deeper, turning as the map directed.
“I feel like we should leave breadcrumbs or something,” Francesca said. “How will we find our way out?”
Benjamin grimaced. A frightened look behind his eyes told her that he’d never been this far through the tunnels. Fifteen minutes into their underground walk, Francesca had to pause to catch her breath, and five minutes after that, she had to ask for another break.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m worse for wear. Not the best treasure hunter in the business.”
Benjamin smiled and turned back to brush dust off her shoulder and cheek. “We’re exploring,” he said. “No more and no less.”
After Francesca had rested a little bit more, she pulled up her chin and said she was ready. They continued: another left, another right, a dead-end, followed by a turnaround and the finding of another door, through which there were more tunnels. After another few minutes, Benjamin stopped and turned his flashlight on the map, grimacing. “I don’t think Jefferson’s great-grandfather had a stellar memory,” he said. “It feels like there are tunnels on here that don’t exist. That, or the angles are off.”
Francesca’s head banged along with her heart. Most of her burned with the desire to go upstairs and back into the light. What did she care about some silly treasure? What did she need extra money for? (Of course, Benjamin had mentioned that the treasure couldn’t hurt, as they refurbished the rest of the White Oak Lodge, which made her suspect he hadn’t exactly been flush with cash over the years. That, or he and their children had numerous plans for the Lodge, plans that went beyond what the Lodge had traditionally offered.)
Searching for the treasure not only made her feel closer to Jefferson but also to the love she’d lost not once but twice. It also made her feel closer to Benjamin, a once love who’d come back into her life and forced her to relearn what it meant to be treasured. It was exciting to open her heart to change, to growth, to hidden tunnels and excitement.
A few minutes later, they came to another dead-end. Francesca’s breathing was growing ragged, and her clothes suddenly seemed too thin for all this underground wandering. Benjamin studied the map for a long time, muttering to himself. Francesca considered what he would say if she suggested they turn back.
But then, Benjamin raised his flashlight and banged it on the wall before him. What had looked like a solid stone wall cracked right down the middle. Some of it crumbled to dust.
“Benjamin!” Francesca cried.
But Benjamin gave her a mischievous smile, reached for the rock, and continued to rip it apart. “It’s thinner here than elsewhere,” he said. “It doesn’t look like the other walls.”
Francesca blinked and realized he was right. This particular wall was thinner and had been put up much later than the others. Francesca reached forward and began to help Benjamin take stones and dirt from the wall to carve out a hole. There was another room beyond the faux-wall, a dark hollow in the earth. Benjamin used his flashlight to flash over it, illuminating what looked to be… a treasure chest. Francesca could hardly believe her eyes.
“No!” she cried.
But it was. Benjamin and Francesca tore the rest of the way through the wall and stood before a grand chest closed with a rusty lock. It looked like something out of a storybook.
“If only I’d known this was here,” Benjamin whispered. “All those years ago. I could have saved the White Oak Lodge withoutAngelo.” Implied in what he was saying was that the fire would have never happened. Their family would have never split apart.
“You don’t know what would have happened,” Francesca wanted to tell him. She took his hand and squeezed. “Open it,” she told him.
With his flashlight, Benjamin smashed the lock, then told Francesca to step back. Francesca stood in the corner with her hands over her mouth, conscious that whatever was in there had been locked away for hundreds of years.Oh, Jefferson, you would have loved this, she thought at her other lifelong love. If only you could see this.
Slowly, Benjamin opened the chest and flashed his light across the contents: what looked to be hundreds of gold and copper coins. Francesca seized the chest and came over to it, dropping to her knees to look at the coins properly. She knew very little about coinage or its historical context, but she breathed, “These are incredible.”
Benjamin clapped his hands, overjoyed. The look on his face reminded her of when they’d first met at ages seventeen and nineteen. The world had been theirs. Maybe it was again.
Delirious, Benjamin and Francesca made their way back to the staircase, where they hurried upstairs, giggling like crazy, until they appeared before their children and grandchildren, covered in soot, dirt, and stone. Allegra’s jaw dropped. Nina looked quizzical.
“What on earth?” Lorelei said, nearly dropping her glass of wine.
Benjamin and Francesca glanced at one another, pregnant with the promise of what was beneath the floorboards. But Francesca knew they needed Nina first and foremost. She was the anthropologist, the only person who’d know precisely what they had down there, the only person who would know what to do.
“Nina,” Francesca said, her voice wavering. “Can you follow us? We have a job for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
