Thornton Heath Treasure
"Antique dealer Grace finds forgotten treasures in South London estates, but when estate lawyer Sam comes to settle his grandmother's affairs, she discovers the real treasure is the man himself."
Sam's grandmother had left a house full of mysteries. Grace knew how to solve them.
She arrived thick and professional, dark skin against a vintage dress, expertise radiating from every assessment.
"This piece alone—" She touched an old cabinet. "Worth thousands."
"Grandma always had taste."
"So do yuh, bringing mi in." She smiled. "Most people call the charity shop."
Days of cataloguing. Late nights of discovery. Each piece had a story; Grace knew them all.
"How do you know so much?" Sam asked.
"Caribbean people, we save things. Pass them down. Every object holds memory." She held his eyes. "I respect memory."
"I'm starting to respect you."
"Starting?"
"Okay. I respected you the moment you walked in."
The kiss happened between a Victorian lamp and a Jamaican hope chest.
"This is unprofessional," she said.
"Very."
"We should stop."
"Should we?"
They didn't stop.
On his grandmother's antique bed—still appraising, she'd joked—they found each other among the histories.
"Yes! Sam! There!"
Her thick body amid treasures from three generations, adding their own story to the collection.
"Don't stop! Make mi part of this house's history!"
The estate settled for more than expected. Sam donated some, kept some, including the bed.
"Come see the new place," he said. "Help me arrange things."
"Professional consultation?"
"Personal consultation." He pulled her close. "Very personal."
Grace's shop now features pieces from the estate. Sam visits daily. "Checking on my investments."
The real investment? Each other.
Thornton Heath's hidden treasure.
Found in the most unexpected place.