Charlie Grace’s heart raced. She had always known there was junk hidden in her family’s old barn, had even planned to have it all hauled out of there, but the task never became a priority. How could she have guessed this—this treasure, this rare piece of history—was among all the junk?
Clancy Rivers, positioned in his wheelchair nearby, looked just as stunned as she felt. His broad hands gripped his knees tightly, his gaze locked on the watch as though it might vanish if he blinked. “I can’t believe it,” Clancy muttered, his voice hoarse. “I thought all those trunks were filled with just some old scraps.”
Frank smiled at him, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’d be amazed how often that’s the case. But this right here? It’s worth more than most folks could imagine.”
Tess, the field director, stepped in close and signaled to the cameraman. “Clancy, can you hold it up for a second?” she asked, her voice calm but intent. She motioned for Charlie Grace to join him. “We need to get a shot of the two of you holding it, really let it sink in.”
Clancy nodded, though his hands trembled slightly as he took the watch. His face shifted from disbelief to awe, the weight of the moment settling in. He turned the watch over carefully, tracing the engraving with a finger.
Frank leaned in. “Those markings are key.” He shook his head. “It’s authentic.”
Charlie Grace couldn’t help but smile, despite the storm of emotions swirling in her chest and all the cameras pointed at her. “I never knew the watch was in there,” she said, her voice steady but filled with wonder. “It’s just been sitting in that trunk for decades.”
Frank laughed, the sound rich with excitement. “That’s what we love about this show. People have no idea what they’re sitting on.” He turned to the crew. “This is what we live for.”
Charlie Grace caught sight of Nick just beyond the boundary, standing tall with that easy, knowing grin of his. Arms crossed, his blue eyes locked onto hers, radiating nothing but pride. No teasing, no jokes—just pure, unfiltered happiness for her. The weight of the moment pressed against her chest, and for the first time since this whirlwind began, she felt steady. He gave her a small nod, the kind that said ‘I see you. You earned this.’ And just like that, the chaos around her faded, if only for a second.
Tess looked up from her clipboard, her brow raised with curiosity. “So, what does this mean for you, Charlie Grace?”
The question stilled the air for a moment, and all eyes turned to her. She swallowed, her mind spinning with the possibilities. She’d always joked about how she’d like to be rich but never expected the word would be associated with her name.
“It means a lot of things,” she said, finally. “It means I need to sit down before I fall over.” She plopped onto the hay bale beside Clancy, exhaling.
A ripple of laughter spread through the crew, but Charlie Grace wasn’t done.
She shook her head. “It also means my bank account might finally forgive me for all those times I’ve whispered, ‘Hold on, baby, we’ll get through this.’”
The laughter grew louder.
Charlie Grace ran her fingers over the intricate engraving on the watch, her expression softening. “It also means my family will no longer just be…getting by.” She swallowed, feeling the weight of that realization. She put her hand on her dad’s knee. “I guess it means we have a whole lot of figuring out to do.”
Charlie Grace watched as Clancy stared at the watch, his weathered hands flexing against his knees like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. His face, normally as solid and unshakable as the Tetons, shifted—his mouth pressed into a hard line, his throat working against emotion he wouldn’t dare let loose in front of a crowd.
She squeezed his knee, grounding them both. “Dad?”
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “Your mama would’ve loved to see this day,” he said, his voice thick, rough around the edges. Then, after a beat, he gave a gruff chuckle, blinking fast. “Though she’d probably tell us not to go gettin’ big heads about it.”
Charlie Grace felt a laugh bubble up, unexpected but welcome. “She’d tell us to be smart,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. “And not to do anything dumb.”
Aunt Mo let out a low whistle, hands on her hips as she eyed the watch. “Well, sugar, I’d say the good Lord finally decided the Rivers family was due for a blessing.”
Before Charlie Grace could respond, Jewel scrunched up her nose and piped up, “Does this mean we’re getting a hot tub? ‘Cause my legs been real tired lately.”
Beyond the makeshift boundary the Treasure Pickers crew had set up, the gathered townspeople buzzed like a hive of restless bees. Word had spread fast—something big had been found in the barn—and now half of Thunder Mountain seemed to be here, craning their necks, standing on tiptoes, whispering and speculating.
Nicola Cavendish, always one to sniff out a story before it was even fully baked, clutched her rhinestone-studded phone in one hand and her freshly groomed Yorkie, Sweetpea, in the other. “A Patek Philippe,” she repeated to the woman beside her, widening her eyes for dramatic effect. “Do you know what that means, Dorothy? That’s European royalty-level money. Charlie Grace could be—heavens—rich rich.” She let that settle before sucking in a sharp breath. “And to think, she’s been riding around town in that old truck of hers. Imagine what she can drive now.”
Her husband, Wooster, the town’s ever-practical banker, let out a heavy sigh and adjusted his tie. “Well,” he finally grumbled, arms crossed, “if she’s smart, she’ll invest it. Not go blowin’ it on nonsense like some people.” His pointed glance at Nicola and her jeweled shoes did not go unnoticed.
“Excuse me?” Nicola snapped, flipping her highlighted hair over her shoulder. “I happen to invest in quality.” She gave Sweetpea’s matching pearl collar a little tug as proof.
Albie Barton had already pulled a notepad from his pocket and was furiously scribbling. “I’m not sure there’s ever been a bigger story. Literally. We could be talking museum-level significance. Thunder Mountain itself could end up on the map.”
“Well, it’s already on the map, Albie,” Pastor Pete’s wife, Annie, chimed in with a chuckle, “but I get what you’re sayin’.”
Brewster Findley poked Gibbs’ side with his elbow. “Guess you should’ve stayed married.” A few folks chuckled, and Gibbs, ever the smooth talker, just smiled. “Didn’t know we were sitting on a gold mine,” he said, his tone easy, but his eyes flicked toward Charlie Grace with something unreadable—calculation, maybe.
Lizzy nudged him playfully. “Too late now. You’re taken.”
