A Gift from the Past Read Free Page B

article on him and his company. The article had been entitled, “Joshua McCane: The ManBehind the Magic,” and had chronicled his meteoric career from his first little company, begun in a rented space above a health-food store four years ago.
    DreamQuest Games now had its own building on twenty-five beautiful acres in California. Joshua employed two hundred men and women who worked at producing and marketing the fantasy games both children and young adults had embraced.
    He glanced at Claire, surprised to see her staring at him. As their gazes met, she quickly looked away and grabbed the sugar bowl and creamer for the table.
    â€œMind if I wash up? My hands are dirty.” Without waiting for her reply, he stood and walked over to the sink.
    Claire moved aside, but not before he smelled the floral scent of her perfume.
    The scent had a touch of honeysuckle to it. Instantly he remembered those summer nights when he and Claire had made out on the porch swing with the sweet scent of the nearby honeysuckle wafting in the air.
    â€œWhen did you get into town?” Sarge asked, as Joshua turned on the faucet and shoved those memories aside.
    â€œLate last night. I ran into Claire this morning out by the old Dragon Tree.” He finished washing his hands and turned off the water.
    â€œWere you out there digging for the ten thousand bucks, too?” Sarge asked.
    Joshua took the hand towel Claire proffered and dried his hands. Her gaze was cool, disinterested, but as she took the towel back from him he noticed that her hand trembled slightly. So, she wasn’t as unaffected by his presence as she wanted him to believe.
    He sat back down at the table. “I was drinking a cup of coffee this morning at the diner and reading the paper. I saw the clues for the treasure hunt, and you know I’ve never been able to resist a puzzle.”
    â€œI guess Cookie didn’t find the treasure, otherwise she wouldn’t be pouting now,” Sarge said.
    â€œI’m not pouting,” Claire stated as she poured three cups of coffee. “I’m just listening.” She set one of the cups of coffee in front of Sarge. “Twelve o’clock,” she murmured. “And no, I didn’t find the money. All we found was an old tin box.”
    â€œWith a photo inside,” Joshua added. “An old photo of a couple who look exactly like Claire and me.” He took a mug of coffee from her, surprised that as their fingers touched he felt a responding surge of heat sweep up his arm.
    She jerked her hand back as if she felt it too and the scowl on her beautiful features deepened.
    â€œWell, that’s strange,” Sarge exclaimed. “You say the people in it look like you and Claire?”
    â€œThey could be our twins,” Joshua replied. The photo in the old tin box wasn’t the only thing strange around here, he thought.
    He wanted to know what had caused Sarge’s blindness and his descent into a wheelchair. How long had Sarge been sick, and had Claire been dealing with it all on her own? He wanted to know when things had gotten so obviously bad.
    What he found stranger than anything was that the woman he’d finally come here to divorce still had the ability to fill him with a white-hot desire and a deep yearning for something he couldn’t identify.
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    â€œHow long are you staying?” Sarge asked as he carefully brought his cup to his lips to sip the fresh brew.
    â€œI’m not sure.” Joshua leaned back in the chair, his gaze once again falling on Claire.
    He’s leaving as soon as he finishes his cup of coffee, Claire wanted to say. He’s getting back on whatever plane or train or bus brought him here, and he’s never coming back again.
    He smiled at her, as if he read her thoughts, then directed his attention back to Sarge. “I don’t have any definite schedule. I just decided I needed a little time away from work. You know what they