Searching For Treasure - By L.C. Davenport Page 0,3

shouldered past the others and pumped their host's hand vigorously.

"The name is Brett Murphy. And this is my associate, Austin Jones. Mister, I hope you were serious about that treasure."

Brett, who had an English accent, looked like the stereotypical favorite uncle, except for the glint of avarice in his eyes. He continued to shake hands, but his eyes constantly flitted around as if expecting the treasure to be right there in front of him. Austin was good-looking in a brutish, bad-boy kind of way that many women found attractive. Not Dana. She had often wondered why some women found dangerous-looking men to be so appealing.

"My name is Oscar Gaston," replied the older man, slightly taken aback. "I know what you're probably thinking. French name, no accent. Well, I was raised in the south of England."

"Fascinating. But, the treasure?" Brett asked impatiently.

Dana looked at Jack and rolled her eyes. There's one in every group, her expression said.

Oscar looked at the two men in front of him. Brett was staring at him too intently and he especially didn't like the hard, calculating glint in Austin's eyes. He cleared his throat nervously. "Oh, there are many stories about treasure surrounding this castle, as well as stories about ghosts. But, I cannot guarantee that you will discover either one."

Austin spoke for the first time. "But we are free to look, for the treasure that is." It was a statement, not a question. It was spoken in an arrogant, challenging way that immediately put Dana's back up.

"Err, within reason, of course. Now please, I have not met the rest of you fine people." Introductions were made all around. They all trooped forward to deposit their luggage on the wide front porch flanked by fluted columns.

"I wouldn't drop them too hard," grumbled Austin to no one in particular, "they're liable to go right through."

"The castle is perfectly safe I assure you. Structurally sound. I know it doesn't look like much on the outside, but it is clean and is in reasonably good repair. I've seen to that. And you will be glad to know I have acquired the most wonderful cook who will have you drooling over her cuisine," Oscar said.

Finally, everyone entered the front door. Although it was nowhere near the grandness of the olden glory days, it was clean and appeared to be freshly painted. It was obvious that Oscar had concentrated his repairs to the inside of the castle. The sound of an approaching car had Noah glancing out the door.

"There's someone coming," Noah said.

Oscar smiled. "That must be the rest of our little group."

"Yoo-hoo, we're here!" Charging through the door were two bright and cheerful bundles of female energy. Both ladies were probably in their late- fifties or early sixties, sporting nearly identical short haircuts, wearing colorful vacation garb and bursting with such vitality that Jack felt old in comparison.

The first one through the door launched into an apology. "Sorry we're late, but my friend here won't let me drive, so that tends to slow us down. Although,”she said turning to her companion, "I am a perfectly safe driver." It was obviously an old argument.

"My driving is good enough for the both of us," said the other woman. She pushed up her bracelets and held out her hand to the first person she came to, which happened to be Henry. "Hi, Rose from Virginia. Timmons is the last name. My friend here is Grace. Grace Braise."

Henry took her hand as if he was afraid it would go off in his. "Henry Hudson."

"Oklahoma,”said Rose

"How could you tell?" he asked.

"My great-grandmother,”she replied, as if that should explain everything.

Grace attempted to enlighten him. "She has a knack for dialects. She's hardly ever wrong. Oh my, will you look at this place."

Rose poked Grace in the arm. "See, now isn't this better than going to see an old whorehouse in the Midwest?"

Grace walked to the middle of the hallway with her hands outstretched, palms down, and began turning around in a slow circle with her eyes closed. She seemed to be humming.

Rose chuckled. "You'll get used to her. She's from New York."

"I'm trying to commune with the spirits," Grace said.

"Spirits don't usually commune in the middle of the afternoon, Grace."

Grace opened one eye. If it's possible to cast a baleful glance with one eye shut, then she did it.

Within a couple of minutes, Grace and Rose had either totally charmed or bemused everyone around them, with the possible exception of Austin, who appeared supremely bored. Henry,