**Treasure Under Another’s Roof: A Story of Gold, Cunning, and… Something More**
Oliver had come to the countryside to visit his grandfather, Arthur—to breathe fresh air and escape the noise of the city. But this time, he hadn’t just brought a rucksack of clothes. No, tucked under his arm was a proper metal detector. From the moment he arrived, his grandfather squinted at the strange gadget, curiosity gnawing at him until he finally broke.
“What’ve you got there, Ollie? Planning to go fishing with that thing?”
“It’s not a fishing rod, Grandad. It’s a metal detector—nearly professional grade. I read online that gold was hidden around here years ago. Thought I’d have a go at finding it.”
The old man chuckled, his gaze drifting toward the field beyond the garden before he spoke slowly.
“Heard that tale from my own father, I did… And between you and me, I reckon I’ve an idea where that gold might be. Trouble is, there’s a house sitting right on top of it now.”
Oliver’s eyes lit up.
“Could you get me in there, then? Just to take a quick look?”
Arthur shrugged, a sly grin creeping in.
“Suppose I could. But they won’t let you dig up their garden, lad. Even if you found something, by rights, it’d belong to them. Their land, their rules. Still… there might be another way.”
Oliver frowned.
“What d’you mean, ‘another way’?”
“Well, the folks in that house—their daughter’s just moved back from London. Smart girl, kind. Down-to-earth, too. Now there’s a proper treasure for you.”
“Oh, come off it! I didn’t come here for romance. I came for gold.”
“Who said anything about romance?” Arthur laughed. “Treasure’s different for everyone, isn’t it? If you befriend her, maybe she’ll convince her parents to let you scan their garden. And if you find anything, she might even cut you in.”
Oliver hesitated, but the spark in his eyes didn’t fade.
“You’re certain the gold’s there?”
“Certain as my own name. My old man swore it was true—some official buried it ages ago, during the war. Half the village turned upside down looking for it, but no one ever found a thing. Then they built that house, and poof—the trail went cold.”
“And you knew all this time and never looked?”
“How could I? Dig up the whole place with a shovel? Didn’t have a fancy machine like yours. But now you’re here…”
“All right. But how do I even talk to her?”
“That’s not on me, that’s on fate. We’ll walk past, casual-like. I’ll start chatting about the blight on the apple trees—look at the state of ‘em. You jump in, introduce yourself. Be a man about it.”
Oliver hesitated a moment longer but finally agreed. Ten minutes later, they were at the garden gate. Arthur struck up a slow conversation with the owner while Oliver locked eyes with the girl stepping into the yard. Eleanor. Dark hair, hazel eyes, an easy, warm smile. Suddenly, he forgot why he’d even come.
They talked. Then they walked down to the pond. Then she invited him to help put up a new trellis for the roses. The metal detector stayed in its box. Every evening, Oliver only returned to his grandfather’s to sleep. He never mentioned gold, never touched the machine. The treasure hunt didn’t seem important anymore.
When the week ended and it was time to leave, Arthur sat on the bench, puffing his pipe with a knowing smirk.
“Well? Find your treasure?”
Oliver looked up at the darkening sky and smiled.
“Yeah. Just… not the one I was looking for.”
“Told you, didn’t I? Real gold isn’t in the ground. It’s in people.”
The metal detector stayed behind in the shed, tucked under a dusty sheet. But Eleanor? She stayed in Oliver’s heart.
