Whiskey Beach(174)

“All is exactly what we’ll take.” She pressed her lips to his, soft, long, loving. “And then we’ll make more.”

The ring on her hand caught the last rays of the sun, flashed, as it had for Landon women for generations.

Then it gleamed in the quieter light, as it once did in an iron chest washed up from the wrecked Calypso with its canny captain, onto the shores of Whiskey Beach.