Stolen Chances Read Free

normal crisis. One Maren could handle. She rubbed her temples. “Sand pit again?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Get a golf cart up to the lobby. I’ll be out in five minutes.” She clicked off the phone and glanced at Candace. “Forward any calls to my cell. I may be dealing with this for a while.”
    She moved for the door. Candace’s hand on her arm stopped her.
    “Maren? Are you okay? You look a little rattled.”
    She was more than rattled. She was reeling. “I’m fine. But you might not be in a minute. Sophia Hudson is coming home. By Friday, you’ll be working for her again, not me.”
    She left Candace staring wide-eyed at her back and headed for the lobby. Moments later, she eyed the pristine grass laid out before her like a carpet of green as she drove the cart across the grounds. Not that she saw any of its beauty. All she could see was her father’s face when she’d left him in Mexico nine years before. Yeah, she’d seen him since then, but that image of him was forever emblazoned in her mind. And knowing she was going back there again…
    Her stomach rolled. She forced the images away and waved a greeting to the greenskeeper as she passed the maintenance building and cut across the fairway, then glanced up when she rounded the hill. Just as Randy had said, the marauders were camped out on the eighth fairway.
    She turned off the engine, hit the brake with her foot, and eased out of the cart. Her heels sank into the soft ground as she stalked toward the sand pit, making her wish she’d worn slacks instead of the pencil skirt she’d slipped into this morning.
    “No, you guys are doing it wrong!” The young girl’s terse voice drifted to Maren’s ears as she drew closer. Dark hair tied back in a ponytail whipped across the girl’s shoulder when she turned to the two boys crouched in the sand behind her. “You can’t just tear through the dirt. You have to be gentle. You’re dealing with years and years of sediments there. If you yank and pull, you’ll ruin the integrity of the artifacts. Use your trowel and your whisk.”
    The boys grumbled. It was clear they just wanted to dig and get dirty. They didn’t want to play this game or be bossed around by a girl. One boy flicked sand over his shoulder, contaminating the site, which had been carefully cordoned off with rope and stakes. The girl turned and glared at him.
    Amusement cut through the fear bubbling in Maren’s belly, but she tamped it down and put on her best head-honcho face, then cleared her throat. The dark-haired girl whipped around at the sound.
    “Just what, exactly, is going on here, young lady?”
    Lacing her fingers behind her back, the girl quirked one dark eyebrow and bit her lip. “Ah, an excavation?”
    Maren forced back the smile teasing the corners of her lips and wished like hell she could do that damn one-eyebrow thing. She could hardly blame the girl for setting up her own dig. Maren had done it a thousand times herself as a child, on the same golf course, in the same exact spot, for that matter. But there were rules. And rules had to be followed. She'd learned that the hard way.
    “The guests don’t like having a dig on their course.”
    “Ah, Mom. Can’t you tell them to leave us alone? This is science here.”
    The ah, Mom did it. Maren’s heart slammed against her ribs as her eight-year-old daughter shifted her weight from one foot to another, reminding Maren that this was all that mattered. Not a place. Not a moment in the past. Just this.
    Maren eyed the dirty khaki pants and T-shirt that read Archaeologists do it in the dirt , then frowned. “Science or not, this dig is dug. Get your tools, and get out of that pit.”
    “Bugger,” Isabel muttered under her breath. “Come on, guys. We’re busted.”
    The two boys grumbled again as they stood and dusted off their legs. But they did as they were told and followed.
    “Who are your partners in crime?” Maren asked as she watched.
    “This is David. He’s