What took you so long?” Madeline demanded when Jonah settled beside her at the table.

It seemed like an eternity since she’d been left alone to endure the company of these three inquisitive females. From Mama’s unending questions to Susanna’s quiet and measuring stare, Madeline felt as if she were walking a tightrope in a stiff breeze. Thankfully, Mrs. Cahill had reached over to squeeze her hand.

“It will all be quite fine,” she had said softly.

Now that Jonah was back, Madeline knew it would be.

“Nothing to worry about,” Papa said, returning to offer Mama a kiss on the cheek. “What did we miss?”

Madeline spied something that looked like a smudge of dirt on Jonah’s jaw and retrieved her handkerchief to swipe at it. To her surprise, the smudge remained, but Jonah winced.

“Where were you?” she demanded softly, being careful not to speak loud enough to interrupt her father’s description of Madame’s lovely climbing rose on the back fence. “And you need to tell me the truth right now because that looks like a bruise on your cheek.”

“No,” he told her firmly. “I do not need to tell you the truth right now. I need to tell you something else.” He nodded toward the distance where Madame was walking their way. “No matter what happens, remember that everyone at this table loves you, most especially me.”

“What in the world does that mean?”

“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Madame said as she joined them. The other ladies responded in the affirmative, but Madeline couldn’t help noticing Papa staring at her. Finally Madame joined him in looking her direction. “Have you told her yet?”

Jonah shook his head. “I wanted to wait until you were here.” He turned to Madeline. “We found the Smith grandchild.”

“What?” She grinned. “That’s wonderful.” Then she sobered. “Wait a minute. We were supposed to be a team. How did you find her without me?”

“Remember the day we fought over who paid for the treats?”

She grinned. “I am paying next time.”

He gave her a patient look. “Anyway, I had an occasion to speak to Mrs. Smith before we left, and something she said made me think. I sent a telegram to someone in New Orleans who I know to be the keeper of quite a few secrets. Her name is Bess, and she was my grandfather’s housekeeper. This telegram is her response.”

YES. YOU GUESSED RIGHT. LETTER TO FOLLOW.

Madeline looked up. “I don’t understand.”

Jonah looked around the table. “Who wants to answer that since you’re all involved?”

Papa rose. “I should. Since the dealings with Lucius Cahill started with me. Unlike his grandson, Lucius was not a completely honorable man, and for one terrible moment, neither was I.”

“Papa,” Madeline managed. “What did you do?”

“Cahill showed up on my doorstep with a maid and a baby. Said the baby belonged to Samuel Smith. How he knew our firm had done work for Samuel’s maternal grandfather, I have no idea. But he did, and he knew we had information on where certain, um, valuables were hidden. Discovered through the course of the investigation and certainly nothing we would have profited from.”

He looked over at Madame. “I doubt you were ever told this, but it was that information that caused your father to relent when he found out you’d married John. He knew you’d be taken care of.”

He paused, and Mama patted his hand. “I will tell the rest of this,” she said, her tone surprisingly fierce. “That man,” Mama continued, “he threatened to harm that innocent baby.”

“So you saved her,” Madeline offered.

“At the cost of trading secrets I should not have traded.” Papa looked over at Madame. “Have you something to say?”

Her gaze swung across the group and then landed on Papa. “Had you not, I would have.”

Madame’s answer seemed to satisfy Papa. He dipped his head, and Mama settled closer to him.

“My husband and I knew what Lucius had done, and we tried to reason with him,” Mrs. Cahill said. “I wanted to find the child well before Jonah was hired for this purpose. I always wondered what happened to her, and I wrote my father-in-law often. When Lucius died, I thought that secret went with him.”

Mama came around the table to kneel before her. “We wrote Samuel, and he was afraid for the child’s safety should she be returned to him. We pledged to care for the baby. He came to visit twice before he passed away.”

“And I was not told upon Samuel’s request,” Madame said. “He feared I would lead Cahill to the baby, and in retrospect, I agree.”

Mama smiled. “Yes, what better place to hide a child than under the man’s nose? What a tiny thing she was. It only took a bit of work at the beginning, but after a while there was no question.”

“So what happened to her?” Madeline turned to Jonah. “You said you found her, and Mama and Papa, you obviously placed her somewhere that Mr. Cahill would never find her. Where is she?”

“Madeline,” he said slowly. “She is you.”

“Me?” The breath went out of her. “That isn’t possible. I was not born in 1855.”

“You were, child, but you were so tiny that no one questioned your age when your mother and father signed the registry in the spring of ’56 and gave you a new birthday.” Madame said. “I have known for some time. From the moment I found out,” she said to Mama, “I gathered nothing but pink roses for my parlor. With each rose I said a prayer for the woman who was now mother to my granddaughter and the girl who was flesh of my flesh.”

Mama began to cry. Papa reached over to wrap his arm around her.

“Do you know how many ads I had to place before you answered?” Madame threw up her hands. “More than I can count, but I had followed your articles in the newspaper and I knew what would get your interest. How does it feel to be related to the man you’ve been trying to quiz me for information about?”

Madeline tried to respond but found the words would not come. Instead, Jordy came running and launched himself into Madame’s lap. Annabelle followed close behind, apologizing and laughing.

“I have a sister,” she managed and then shook her head. “And all of you too.”

Jonah wrapped his arms around her then looked down into her eyes. “Hello, Trésor.”

Once the tears stopped—admittedly, his included—Jonah rose to command attention. “I can think of no better place to do this than in front of our families.” He turned to Madeline and then dropped to one knee. “Madeline, you’ve now got a sister, a nephew, and a grandmother right here at this table. I’d be honored if you’d agree to have a husband too.”

The clapping and cheering drowned out Madeline’s response, but Jonah was pretty certain she said yes.

September 19, 1880

Everyone at the reception said theirs was the most beautiful wedding ever held at the Cathedral. They’d chosen to marry in New Orleans on Madeline’s birthday so that Bess could be there to see them and have a happy memory associated with that day. She wasn’t much for traveling now, and none of the rest of Madeline’s family and friends minded the trip.

Besides, Madeline wanted to walk where her grandfather had walked, now that she knew who her grandfather truly was. And while this was an article she would never write, the truth was enough.

She looked around the room and spied Horace Montlake in an animated conversation with Papa. Beside her father, Mama and Mrs. Cahill were no doubt plotting names for the grandchildren they would soon demand. Gretchen was seated beside Madame, and they both smiled and waved.

“That man needs to back off a little.”

Madeline looked up at Jonah, who was currently leading her in a lovely waltz, this time wearing boots instead of proper formal shoes. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“Donovan,” he grumbled. “Ever since he bought that property on the island, he’s been coming around acting like he wants to court her.”

She giggled. “I think your sister feels the same. Look at them. Besides, it was awfully nice of you to loan him the money.”

His smile was dazzling. “I need someone to keep my sister busy, and it sure wasn’t going to be Walt Townsend.”

“Are you admitting to matchmaking?”

“I admit no such thing. Unless you want to admit you recommended Townsend to your editor to take your place at the Picayune.”

She spied Mr. McComb and Walt Townsend holding a spirited conversation next to the punch bowl. “The fact that Mr. Townsend will no longer live in the same town as us is merely a coincidence.”

Jonah laughed and then nodded toward the edge of the dance floor. “It looks like I’m about to have to give up my bride for the next dance.” The music ended, and Papa cut in. “Take care of her, sir.”

“I always have,” Papa told him.

“And I always will,” Jonah said before he walked away to take Mama’s hand and lead her to the dance floor.

“Thank you for saving the Bible for me,” she told him, thinking of the small book she’d tucked under her bouquet for her walk down the aisle.

The Bible had been the one thing that her paternal grandfather had been insistent should be kept for his granddaughter’s wedding day. Because Papa knew the Cahills wielded enough power to have any deposit box in New Orleans opened at their request, he had chosen a favored bank in Galveston, one owned by the Montlake family, to house the treasure. The key to that box, the one numbered fourteen, had been around Madeline’s neck.

“Have you found the treasure map yet?” he asked with a grin.

She looked at him askance. “Are you serious?”

Papa shrugged. “Truth is, I never knew if John was or not. He was often a man to joke, although he never did joke about his treasure.”

Madeline smiled as she rested her head on Papa’s shoulder for the remainder of the dance. Then her husband returned for her and it was time to leave.

Gathering the Bible and her flowers, all pink roses, she left the reception on the arm of her husband. Only later when they had retired to their room at the most beautiful hotel in all of New Orleans did the reality of the day, truly of the past six months, cause her to stumble.

Jonah scooped her into his arms. “Tired, my beloved?”

“Overwhelmed,” she said, “but in such a good way.”

The roses fell from her arms, and the Bible tumbled with them. “Oh Jonah,” she said as the world tilted and she landed in the middle of a pile of pillows on the bed.

Jonah retrieved the roses and tossed them toward Madeline and then reached for the book. The binding was old, and its collision had caused the spine to crack.

“Did I break it?” she asked.

“No, I think it’s fine. Just a split in the binding, but I think that can be repaired.” Jonah brought the Bible over along with pen and ink. “You write it,” he told Madeline. “My handwriting is terrible.”

Madeline smiled as she took the book and turned to the page listing the family weddings. Beneath the entry listing the marriage of Samuel Smith and Eliza LeBlanc, she wrote their names and then the date.

He took the pen and ink and set it aside then came back for the Bible. Placing it carefully on the dresser so the ink would not smudge, he noticed something odd about the split binding.

Fumbling with fingers too large for the task, he pulled a folded slip of paper out and looked to see what it was.

“Find something?” Madeline asked.

“Just an old page that fell out,” he told her.

Tomorrow he would tell her what it was. Would show her that her grandfather had more than just the heritage of a family Bible in mind when he insisted Phillip Latour put that Bible away in a safe place.

Tonight, however, he would show this woman just how much he loved her. He would show her he would have married her even if she hadn’t inherited an extremely detailed treasure map.

He folded the paper and returned it to the hiding place in the Bible. Then he turned around to smile at his wife.

“Hello, Mrs. Cahill,” he said with a grin. And then the pillows scattered.