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Orchards Bed and Breakfast was served at six-thirty, an informal affair as guests and family members ate together, which was why Gwen never knew who to expect. Melinda Felix was a social butterfly to her husband’s quiet strength. Melinda also had a talent for drawing people out and making them feel at ease, creating a welcoming and lively atmosphere at the dinner table.
    Questions about horseback riding were directed to Porter as the horses were his babies. Deep sea fishing inquiries went to Santos. Though not his love, he handled that aspect of the company when necessary, preferring to run the orchards themselves along with his father. Luckily for Santos, fishing trips were generally secondary to horseback riding and he could often push the task on to his younger brother, making Porter the second most visible family member of the B&B.
    Gwen was present for a couple of reasons. Mainly to respond to guests’ questions about hikes and to meet those who already reserved hikes. It was always good to meet and get to know those you’ll be spending several long, hot, physically active hours with before hand. Mostly, though, she joined those at the dinner table because she couldn’t cook a pot of boiling water.
    Living at the house sure had its benefits, personally as well as professionally. Since she was the one who led the weekday hikes, Dennis handled the weekends; the meetand-greet dinners, as she liked to call them, afforded her the opportunity to size up the guests, giving her advanced notice of any physical or temperamental complications.
    Tonight she met a young family of four with two boys: the Merchins, an older couple on their honeymoon, and a group of three female friends, not much younger then Gwen, who’d previously been to the Orchards.
    To Gwen’s surprise, only Melinda was at the table, all the men suspiciously absent. Beth, one of the single females, commented on Porter’s absence – because he’d been soo very helpful the last time she’d been to the Orchards, gag – and Melinda smiled, stating that her son was engaged elsewhere. As welcoming as the family was, they were still very private about certain matters, and opening their home to outsiders only meant their personal lives were that much more private.
    Gwen knew Porter was every bit as outgoing as his mother and his dark good looks and natural charm drew women like flies to honey. But she also knew he never messed around with the female guests. At least not while they stayed in his mother’s home. Once they left, all bets were off, and if Porter had had a fling with Beth and called it quits, then it was no surprise he was missing in action. But that didn’t account for the absence of the other men.
    When Beth opened her mouth for the hundredth time in ten minutes, Melinda slanted Gwen a hard look. That was her cue to launch her hiking spiel, effectively taking everyone’s attention off whatever topic Melinda deemed too personal or persistent and back to professional status.
    It was one they used quite often.
    “So,” Gwen began, “since you’re all here, I’d like to tell you an interesting story about a pirate named Claude Morgan.”
    Thus the intrigue turned to history rather than the present. As expected the two young boys, appearing too quiet at the start of dinner, became animated and excited as talk of pirates and lost treasure took root. Unfortunately, due to the events of the day, Gwen wondered if maybe the tale of Morgan should no longer be told. Because someone, most likely a former guest, had taken the story far too seriously.
    Much later, after dinner was long over, Gwen slipped from her room and headed to the large garden behind the house. Millions of stars twinkled clear and bright and, with the help of the full moon, a warm glow enveloped the lush landscape. The soft soles of her canvas shoes made very little noise as she made her way over the brick pathway, winding around a white gazebo and then left past one of the several