Catastrophe in a Cloister

by Fiona Grace

  “Oh yes,” Abbot Weeks said. “Foreign and domestic. We’ve even had popes. Do you think it could have belonged to one of them?”

  “Whoever owned it was certainly very rich,” Lacey theorized.

  Abbot Weeks looked thrilled. “The monastery hasn’t been doing well financially,” he admitted. “The church is considering shutting us down and selling off the ancient building. But if the scepter is of value, then we may well be saved.”

  “It’s certainly of value,” Lacey told him. “Though I can’t tell you how much precisely. It needs to be properly inspected, cleaned, researched.”

  “It must be a sign from God,” Abbot Weeks continued. “A sign to keep our doors open and continue serving the community. Though we can’t offer you anything in the way of payment, we were hoping you’d agree to sell it.”

  “Me?” Lacey asked. She’d thought they’d just asked her here for advice. She wasn’t a trained appraiser. There were surely better people for the task. “I don’t know. I’m actually due to get married in a few days, so I’m not sure if taking on such a huge undertaking would be a good idea. I’d need to do a lot of research.”

  Abbot Weeks looked crestfallen. “It would really help us. We trust you and want to go with a small, respectable business. It would also be for a good cause.” He gazed at her with hopeful blue eyes. “A lot of wayward youths would be lost without our services. If we close, they’ll suffer too.”

  Lacey couldn’t help but feel for him, and for the troubled youths he was trying to guide. Besides, this was such a unique and interesting opportunity, Lacey would be a fool to turn it down.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said.

  “You will?” the Abbot asked, immediately perking up. “How wonderful! I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” Then he paused. “There is… one small caveat, though.”

  Lacey felt her eyebrows slowly rise. She didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

  “And what would that be?” she asked, bracing herself.

  “I will need to send a monk with you, to keep an eye on the scepter.”

  “You’ll need to…” Lacey repeated, her voice breathless with astonishment. “A monk?” She’d be returning to Wilfordshire with an ancient scepter and a monk as well!

  “You won’t have to host him,” Abbot Weeks quickly explained. “We’ll put him up in a local inn. We’d just feel infinitely more comfortable knowing one of our own was there supervising the work. Keeping an eye on things.”

  He looked at her hopefully. Lacey didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. Her interest in the scepter had already been whetted, and her charitable side already appealed to. She wasn’t about to turn the work down now—even if that did mean having a monk hanging around the store for the foreseeable future!

  “Well, who is the monk?” she asked. “Can I meet him?”

  “Of course,” Abbot Weeks said, gesturing with his arm to the corner of the room.

  Frowning with confusion, Lacey turned in her chair to discover a monk in full regalia standing silently in the corner. Lacey jumped a mile and let out a gasp. Even Chester at her feet whinnied his surprise.

  “He’s been there the whole time?!” Lacey exclaimed, her hand going to her now pounding heart.

  Abbot Weeks smiled. “He has indeed. Brother Benedict is our most recent addition. He joined us through the very same troubled youth program we are hoping the sale of the scepter will save. He has just taken his vow of pacifism, and is now embarking on a prayerful silence. So you can see how he is the perfect man for the job. He’s the most invested in the program of any monk here, and he won’t cause you any trouble. Indeed, you’re unlikely to notice he’s even there.”

  He chuckled, clearly meaning it to be reassuring. But the thought of a silent monk lurking in the corner of her store made Lacey even more disconcerted. Gina would lose her mind.

  Lacey turned back in her seat again to face the man. He was young—in his late twenties, she guessed—though his bowl cut and long robe aged him considerably.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Lacey said, feeling suddenly shy.

  In response, Brother Benedict put his hands in prayer position and bowed deeply. There was an elegance in his movements, a slow peacefulness. Something about him immediately put her at ease.

  “Brother Benedict’s silence will last another ten days,” Abbot Weeks explained. “It’s an important test for all our new monks. A rite of passage. They must rid themselves of all earthly comforts entirely, so they are open and fully committed to receiving the word of God. He has already completed a three-day water fast, and is now permitted to eat small, plain items such as bread and rice. So you can see he’ll be absolutely no bother.”

  “But I’m not so sure my store is the best place to rid yourself of earthly comforts,” Lacey admitted. “It’s full of comfortable armchairs, and my staff makes a pot of tea every hour, and my fiancé brings pastries in every day…”

  Abbot Weeks cut her off with a kind smile. “I assure you, Brother Benedict will not be tempted. He will be nothing more than a pair of eyes watching over the work. So? Will you accept?”

  “I—” Lacey stammered. “Yes. Yes, I’ll accept the work.”

  “Marvelous,” Abbot Weeks replied.

  He stood and offered his hand to Lacey. She jumped to her feet as well and shook his hand. Then she scooped up the wooden crate containing the scepter and glanced over at Brother Benedict. “Shall we go?” she asked, awkwardly.

  The young monk smiled placidly and bowed his head in agreement.

  “I’ll be in touch as soon as possible,” Lacey said to Abbot Weeks as she headed to the door.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” the head abbot replied.

  He showed her out the door and closed it gently behind her.

  As Lacey retraced her steps through the monastery courtyard—the wooden crate tucked under one arm and a fully robed, silent monk walking behind her—she was struck by a feeling that she’d just taken on a whole lot more than she’d ever intended.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lacey turned her car into the parking lot of the Lodge, tires crunching on the gravel as she slowed to a crawl and searched for a space.

  “My friend runs this inn,” she explained to Brother Benedict. “You’ll be very comfortable here.”

  The monk was sitting silently in the passenger seat beside her, a placid expression on his face. He was earning curious looks from Chester, who’d been relegated to the back seat for the duration of the drive.

  Lacey parked and killed the engine. “Right. Let’s get you checked in, shall we?”

  Brother Benedict put his hands in prayer position and bowed.

  They exited the vehicle, and Chester ran ahead, springing up the stone steps toward the double glass doors at the top. Lacey had to smile to herself. It almost looked to her as if her dog was running ahead to warn Suzy about the very unusual guest she was about to meet.

  Lacey glanced over at Brother Benedict, who did look very out of place now he was out of the monastery. He was carrying a hessian sack over one shoulder, had a blue leather Bible tucked under his arm, and had on a long rosary necklace with a big gold crucifix. Wilfordshire was used to its wild and wacky characters, but Lacey was quite certain it had never seen anything like this.

  The pair went through the automatic doors and into the large foyer, with its central stone fountain surrounded by potted plants and gorgeous candelabras. Brother Benedict glanced around as he walked, taking in the beautiful room as he went.

  “I designed this place,” Lacey told him, proudly. “I used to be an interior design assistant before I took up antiquing.”

  Brother Benedict gave her his placid smile. Just as he’d done to everything she’d said on the way here. Lacey couldn’t help but find it awkward, and a little disconcerting.

  They entered the hotel lobby, which was a large, long corridor with dark green wallpaper and various black-and-white photographs on the walls. Lacey immed
iately heard Chester and Suzy roughhousing. They were very fond of one another.

  She guided Brother Benedict up to the large mahogany reception desk, behind which Suzy was playing tug of war with Chester using what appeared to be yesterday’s newspaper. Suzy was such a slight young woman, Lacey was actually putting her bet on Chester to win the fight.

  “Lacey!” the young brunette exclaimed, as she looked up and fixed her round eyes on her. “There you are.” Then her eyebrows rose. “And you brought company?”

  “This is Brother Benedict,” Lacey said, gesturing to the monk beside her, who dutifully bowed his head. “He’s overseeing some antique work I’ve taken on, on behalf of his monastery.”

  “How wonderful,” Suzy said, smiling at the monk with a pleasant, yet slightly wary expression. “Are you looking for a room?”

  “Please,” Lacey said, answering for him.

  Suzy blinked at her, looking perplexed.

  “Brother Benedict is currently in the middle of a holy silence,” Lacey quickly explained.

  “Righteo,” Suzy said. She abandoned her match with Chester and straightened up, smoothing down the creases in her navy blue suit dress. Then she swept her brown hair over her shoulder and out of the way, and began typing into her computer with red-painted fingernails. “Ooh, Brother Benedict, you’re in luck. We have just had a cancellation on our best room. Ocean facing. Queen-sized bed. Gorgeous en suite, with a slipper bathtub—”

  Her voice trailed away as Brother Benedict began making gentle stop gestures with his hands while he shook his head. Suzy looked at Lacey with confusion.

  “I think maybe Brother Benedict would be more comfortable in a modest room,” Lacey said, remembering what the abbot had told her about his eschewing of all worldly comforts.

  The monk smiled and nodded.

  “Oh, I see,” Suzy replied, tapping away on her computer again. “Would a single room be better? We have one at the back of the building that looks over the lawns instead of the ocean. Or, I guess if you want to go really basic, I could put you up in one of the staff rooms? They only have a bed and closet in them. And no en suite. You’d have to use the staff toilets.”

  Brother Benedict looked pleased with this suggestion and nodded.

  As Suzy typed away, it occurred to Lacey that when Brother Benedict had been glancing about at the foyer, it was not in admiration. Instead, he had probably been thinking about how wasteful and prideful the foyer was. She wondered what he’d think of her store, which was full to the brim with unnecessary trinkets. Perhaps she ought to increase her monthly charity donations to her adopted donkey Alice at the sanctuary…

  “Okay, so I’ve reserved you a room in the staff quarters,” Suzy explained. “Do you want breakfast or—”

  Brother Benedict was already shaking his head.

  “No, of course,” Suzy replied with a smile. “You know, I wish all my guests were this easy! Would you like to see your room?”

  The monk looked across at Lacey. Of course, his priority was to get to the store and start work on the scepter, as his only purpose at the moment was to oversee that task.

  “I think we’re just going to head straight to the store,” Lacey said.

  “No problem,” Suzy replied. “Shall I take your bag to your room? Your… Bible?”

  Brother Benedict handed the hessian sack to her, his movements exuding calm poise and elegance. Then he patted the Bible under his arm and smiled, as if to say it was staying with him. It was quite astonishing, Lacey realized, just how much communication could take place in silence.

  “Well, have a good day, you two,” Suzy said, as she slung the sack over her shoulder. She looked at Chester. “And I’ll see you soon for a rematch, mister!”

  Chester barked.

  Lacey headed back out of the Lodge with her dog and monk in tow, and got back into the car. As she turned the ignition, she suddenly remembered the very important errand she needed to do before they got to the store. And that was to go to the pharmacy and purchase a pregnancy test.

  “Do you mind if we take a quick detour?” she asked Brother Benedict as she reversed out of the space. “I have an… errand to run.”

  Brother Benedict gave her an expression of placid acceptance.

  Lacey left the Lodge’s grounds and headed for the pharmacy, a knot of nervousness in her stomach.

  *

  Wilfordshire’s pharmacy was just as quaint and fancy as the rest of the town’s stores. It had an old apothecary feel to it, with wooden shelves and floorboards, and not a hint of clinical white anywhere. Lacey decided to leave brother Benedict in the car, feeling that standing shoulder to shoulder with a monk while buying a pregnancy test would certainly raise a few eyebrows.

  She scanned the shelves, looking at the various pregnancy tests available, her mind turning over with worry and apprehension. Who knew there’d be so much choice for a simple test? All the boxes promised things such as the most reliable, the quickest results, or UK’s most trusted brand! Lacey grabbed the only one without the overjoyed woman on the front—the last thing she needed was to feel guilty about feeling conflicted rather than joyous.

  She approached the counter and took her place behind the tall man currently being served by a female pharmacist in a white coat. But as she halted, she suddenly recognized the man’s voice. It was the warm, Kenyan accent of Emmanuel, Tom’s assistant at the patisserie.

  Of course, Lacey thought. Today was Tom’s only morning off, which meant Emmanuel had covered for him and now had the rest of the afternoon off.

  Lacey immediately began to backtrack, heading for the shelf to discard the test. If Emmanuel saw what she was buying, she’d have to tell Tom, and she wasn’t ready for that yet!

  “Oh, ma’am, we’re almost done here,” the pharmacist said, leaning past Emmanuel and addressing Lacey as she attempted to creep away. “I won’t be a minute.”

  “Lacey?” came Emmanuel’s bright, cheery voice. “Is that you?”

  Lacey froze in her tracks. It was no use. She’d have to talk to him.

  She turned around, hiding the pregnancy test behind her back.

  “Emmanuel,” she said, forcing out her pleasantries. “How are you today?”

  “Wonderful, thank you,” he replied, in his ever affable manner. “Except for an ulcer. But this delightful lady tells me that Bonjela will sort me right out.”

  He grinned at the pharmacist. The woman smiled in return. It was hard not to be instantly charmed by Emmanuel.

  “I’ll just go fetch your order,” the pharmacist told him.

  She headed to the back room, leaving Emmanuel and Lacey alone.

  “Are you well?” Emmanuel asked as he turned back to face her. “I’m assuming perhaps not, if you’re in here?”

  “Yes,” Lacey said, before remembering she was standing in a pharmacy and needed a cover story. “Actually, er, no, I’ve just started getting a cough. Probably a cold.”

  “Oh no! And just before your wedding?” Emmanuel said, sympathetically.

  His genuine concern made Lacey feel even worse about lying. But she was between a rock and a hard place here—Tom absolutely had to be the first person she spoke to about this, and so fibbing to Emmanuel was the lesser of two evils by default.

  “Hence why I’m here,” Lacey replied with a nervous giggle. “Need something extra strength to get me through the day, if it does turn out to be a cold. It might just be dust. I’ve been doing some… cleaning.”

  Her nervous babbling trailed off as she was luckily saved by the pharmacist’s return.

  “Here you are, sir,” the woman said as she handed a white paper bag across the counter to Emmanuel.

  “Thank you, kind lady,” Emmanuel said. “You have been most helpful.” He turned to Lacey. “I hope your cold passes quickly. If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you at the wedding.” He headed for the exit. “Have a blessed day, all.”

  And with that, he left, the bell merrily tinkling his exit.


  “What a lovely man,” the pharmacist murmured. “And how can I help you today?”

  Lacey swirled back around, her anxiety increasing in a sudden, big wave. She removed the pregnancy test from behind her back and peered nervously down at it, almost not believing this was really happening. Then she quickly thunked it down on the counter. She may have escaped being spotted by Emmanuel, but it had been an uncomfortably close call, and it made her realize she needed to tell Tom what was going on ASAP before someone else found out and told him on her behalf. Wilfordshire was notorious for its gossipers.

  But that also meant finally biting the bullet and having the talk they’d spent their entire relationship skirting around…

  As the pharmacist rang up her purchase, Lacey’s mind ticked frantically over, going through all her options. If she told Tom but the test ended up coming back false, would it just cause a whole load of worry over nothing? Perhaps she could get this all over and done with without even bothering him…

  “Excuse me?” came the pharmacist’s voice, breaking through her thoughts.

  Lacey flinched. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

  The pharmacist gave her a genial smile. “I said that will be fifteen pounds please.”

  “I must’ve spaced out,” Lacey said as she rummaged in her wallet and handed over the money.

  The pharmacist smiled as she counted out her change and handed it back to her. “Maybe you have baby brain!”

  Lacey felt her eyebrows immediately draw together. “Baby brain?”

  “Oh, you know,” the pharmacist continued, conversationally, “sometimes when you’re pregnant your brain can get a bit fogged over. A bit spaced out.”

  Another symptom? Lacey thought, adding it to the nausea and the late period. It was all certainly beginning to build up a picture, one she felt herself becoming increasingly resistant to.

  “Heh. Yes. Maybe,” Lacey said, feeling dazed.

  The pharmacist handed her the little white paper bag across the counter. “Good luck,” she said with an encouraging grin.

  Lacey took the bag. “Thanks.”