All That Glitters

by Mary Brady

  As she watched, a line of trucks and cars filed down Church Street from the north. Some of the vehicles in the parade turned off and others kept moving forward. The whole line halted when the lead truck stopped and threw a piece of debris into the truck bed. When they came to a large chunk filling half the lane in the road, people from several vehicles leaped out to help.

  Soon there were people scurrying everywhere. Hugging, shaking hands, cleaning up.

  Today, instead of repairing and tidying up, she planned to go out and begin to expose Zachary Hale’s innocence or his guilt in the news media. Without a doubt other journalists would be heading to Bailey’s Cove and, no matter what she did, Zach’s private life was going to be under scrutiny.

  Zach stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  She turned toward him. “So we go back to our corners.”

  He offered her a small smile. “No regrets.”

  “No regrets,” she responded and gave him a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of goodbye and good luck.

  “I’ll walk you down to your car.”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “I could not stand it if you did. O’Reilly’s tow-truck guy will take good care of me.”

  She grabbed her bags and started down the road, walking away from the man she had gone from hating to loving in three long days and nights.

  Goodbye, she said silently because she couldn’t bear to say it out loud.

  Her shrunken red moccasins hurt her toes as she left Zach and went toward her old life. She had transferred money to her sister’s account and after that had steadfastly refused to open her computer. There was nothing on the outside world that could compare with the man she had come to know. Her voice mail was full apparently mostly from Savanna, most likely about the money, but she made one call, to the Three Sisters bed-and-breakfast, to get a room. Thankfully, the number was a mobile phone. Christina Talbot, the owner, said they weren’t really open for business yet and that they didn’t have electricity. Addy said she’d bring her own candles and offered to help with cleanup.

  Christina’s response had been a big welcome to the Three Sisters B and B, and she gladly accepted Addy’s open-ended reservation.

  She glanced over her shoulder once to see Zach still on the porch watching.

  He waved and she waved back.

  The thing about the loving part was it felt so good and the excruciating part about actually leaving was the emptiness.

  Each moment that had passed had nearly undone Addy. The big, brave reporter, who could face down a slum landlord in New York or a robed man with a military-grade weapon, could barely even think of facing the world where Zachary Hale was not her lover and not her friend.

  Patty O’Reilly, the tow-truck driver, opened the door for her and soon the cab of the big red flatbed truck with her poor, damaged rental car rocked from side to side as they made their way slowly down the hill toward town.

  Patty was extremely polite to her but did not say one word to her once they were in the truck. The driver made a call to give the person on the other end of the line their ETA as seven or eight minutes.

  Addy could only guess what kinds of rumors had already flooded the town. “Reporter unjustly hounds one of our own” or “speculation runs rampant as reporter holds up in hideaway with beleaguered billionaire.”

  * * *

  ZACH RETREATED INTO the house. He doubted either of them would stick to the bargain of no regrets. He wanted to be innocent and she’d want to fry him in the media for being a crook when she heard the news his attorney had sketched out for him in an email this morning.

  As soon as she found out, they would no longer just be adversaries, they’d be enemies.

  Shaved and dressed in business casual, he headed into town to see Heather Loch at the old church. The box with the roses on the lid sat on the seat beside him. As curator of the local museum, Heather would not only know how to open the beautiful box without harming it, as a descendent of both Colleen McClure and Liam Bailey, she deserved to open it. Beside the box sat the old leather-bound book with the box’s provenance. The two should not be separated.

  His phone rang. Markham Construction returning a call to talk about getting the water out of the mansion’s basement.

  “Henry Markham here.”

  Zach told him the problem and Markham said he’d get there this afternoon. Zach didn’t have to tell the contractor the doors would be unlocked. Everyone’s doors would be unlocked while the world was forbidden to enter the town.

  Zach checked for damage as he drove. The road on Sea Crest Hill was rutted from flowing rainwater. The homes along the way looked mostly intact. No trees had fallen on top of them. Although a number of them would have water in their basements. Markham had said they’d stop in the neighborhoods en route down from Sea Crest Hill and pump out any basements that needed it. A systematic approach, Henry had said, would make the contractor’s contribution to remediation more effective. The company would no doubt be busy for a couple of years demolishing and rebuilding. The old mansion alone would take a month or more after the supplies arrived.

  As he drove down Church Street, Heather Loch waved to him from the doorway of the old church-turned-museum.

  “You okay?” he asked as he approached her in the arched doorway of the old church. Her gray frizzy hair had been tamed by a couple of clips today.

  “We got through. Some are not so lucky. Kimi’s potter’s studio got clobbered, but Kimi was at her mother’s in Bangor, so she’s all right. She’s back now and trying not to be devastated. Pins and Needles, the yarn shop, got the roof torn open and water poured in. Might give those two something more to do than gossip. Braven’s, Pirate’s Roost and Morrison and Morrison are all right. The Three Sisters, except the middle house, the one Christina calls Cora, has damage to the new porch she had added. Other than that, I don’t know yet. How’s the old home on Sea Crest?”

  “Damaged by a tree fall.”

  “Ah-yuh, so Owen says. Did you lose much?”

  “I’ll have to bring a few things down for you to restore, but most of the loss is to the structure and that can be repaired.” He wanted to tell Heather it was thanks to Addy he was able to salvage and save everything, but he had decided not to discuss the journalist with anyone.

  “Owen said his house and yours got water in the basement.”

  “About five feet deep, and it’s receded a bit. Nothing was stored down there and I don’t expect much structural damage.”

  “Guessed as much. Jennifer Markham was down at the Roost this morning, said they were headed upward toward you later this afternoon. The Roost is feeding anybody who needs food for as long as their generator lasts. Said they’ll cook anything you need cooked from your freezer or refrigerator. Mandrel’s Café is doing the same thing. And the kids who run the deli found the funds to reopen the Dawn of Ham, cheesy name, but the sandwiches are good and they are out on the streets already handing them out. They are serving whatever they can get their hands on. Braven’s will heat up anything you bring in until they run out of power.”

  “It’s a good town, Heather.”

  She chuckled. “They let a crazy old woman come and live here.”

  “You’re not so old.”

  She tagged him lightly on the jaw for the slight.

  “There’s a lot of damage on the south end of town where the wind seemed to sweep in harder, causing a tidal surge. I knew they built those condos too close to the ocean. What were they thinking? We’ll get through this. You wait and see.” She pushed at the strands of hair the wind was loosening from the clips and then she pointed at the box under his arm. “What have you got there?”

  He had carefully wiped and cleaned away the plaster, but left much of the accumulation of age. Heather would clean that away with loving and skillful hands.<
br />
  “Something I think you and Daniel MacCarey should see.”

  “Then let’s go inside where the wind isn’t so chilly and you can tell me all about it.”

  Inside the old church with its cathedral ceiling were display cases and exhibits where the pews had once been. The walls were covered with paintings, sketches and photos in a progression that showed the town’s growth over almost two centuries. The museum was less than two years old and already it was crowded.

  Heather took out a white cloth and put it on top of a display case.

  Zach placed the old book on the white cloth and held the box out to her.

  “This fell from the attic onto the floor of the four-poster bedroom.”

  She turned it around carefully in her hands, lifted it above her head to look at the underside. Shaking it gently, she listened intently to the sounds coming from inside. Then she rubbed her fingers over the pattern on the top of the box.

  “Roses. Fell from the attic, as in hidden under the floorboards in the attic? The Goldens would love to hear about this.”

  “Is that group of senior-citizen treasure hunters still intact?” he asked.

  “Livelier than ever, especially since the find in the caves.”

  “My grandfather was part of that group.”

  “Do you suppose the box is hers? I wonder if it’s hers. Do you think it was hers?” The excitement quickly raised the tone of Heather’s voice until she couldn’t speak anymore.

  “It was hers. Whether she kept it hidden or someone else did, I think only the contents will tell us.”

  “How do you know?”

  He opened the book with Rónán’s drawing and note about the box.

  Fire lit in the older woman’s eyes as she read the words.

  “Maybe she hid it herself. Maybe it wasn’t stolen.”

  “I’ll leave it to you. When you look inside, you can find out.”

  She grabbed his sleeve to prevent him from walking away. “Not so fast. I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “A lot of people have been thinking about me these days,” he said suddenly feeling the weight of millions of people wishing him harm.

  Heather let go of his sleeve and waved a hand dismissively. “Not that stuff. Since I found my long-lost relative, I’ve been thinking of Daniel MacCarey as my younger brother—all right, much younger. I like the feeling a lot. I don’t have any close siblings and neither does he. I feel like his older sister, you know, even cried at his wedding to Mia.”

  “Rumor has it he’s fond of you.”

  “Isn’t that great?” She waved her hand again. “I was thinking since our common ancestor was a half brother to Liam Bailey’s son, maybe you’d want to be our half brother.”

  “I don’t know, Heather.” He took her outstretched hand and held it. “You know they are trying to pitch me in jail for bilking billions of dollars out of people’s pension funds. And I might end up there.”

  “No you won’t, and like we care what they think. Those same folks tried to tell us Bailey’s Cove should be abandoned to the sea, and those folks said the Three Sisters bed-and-breakfast would never even get completed and it opens next week. Heck most of them don’t even believe in the treasure of Liam Bailey. Heck twice if you want in on the sibling deal, you’ll get to be an uncle to Danny and Mia’s children when they have them.”

  Zach found himself smiling at Heather’s pragmatic manner of looking at things. “An uncle.” He thought about his older sister who at forty still held fast to her vow never to marry or have children, so much like their mother who was born in an age where you had children because you were married.

  “They’ll have to let me be a granny because I look the part.” She pointed to her head of gray hair. “Anyway the segue is that I don’t want to wait to open the box until Daniel gets back in town this weekend from the university. If you’ll stand in as a brother and witness, I’ll open it now.”

  “Will that be all right with Dr. MacCarey?”

  “I spoke with Daniel about you being our half brother and he said bring it on. Not in those words, ya know.”

  “Before or after the Hale and Blankenstock scandal broke?”

  “Because of it. We were thinking you might need to know there were some people solidly in your corner.”

  “I’d be honored, sis.” He loved this town.

  She grinned big and hugged him.

  Then she placed both hands over the box, and closed her eyes. It seemed as if she were trying to feel any energy the box might be emanating. Knowing Heather Loch, that’s exactly what she was doing.

  “All right, let’s have at it.” she said when she opened her eyes.

  Donning cotton gloves, she pulled a brass key from her pocket and held it up. The key had the same pattern as the keyhole cover and hinges on the rose covered box.

  “Where did that come from?” The woman was very new age or just plain spooky.

  “I got it at a rummage sale here in town where they advertised antiques for sale. The key, probably the only antique worth anything and I got it for a buck. A bargain even though I never knew what it was for until I saw the box.”

  “Lucky coincidence.”

  She glared at him.

  “Not lucky or not a coincidence?” he asked feeling reprimanded.

  “Coincidence is just listening to that small, quiet voice inside your head.”

  “Does everyone have a voice like that?”

  She nodded, concentrating to see that lifting the lid did not cause any harm to the box or its contents. “If you just stop listening to the loud one in there yammering on and on, you can hear the small one.”

  Zach shook his head and stood back a few steps to let Heather have the first look into the box.

  She pulled out a ring and slipped it on her index finger.

  “Wait. Let me see that.”

  “Like yours,” she said without looking up at him.

  His grandmother had a matching ring specially made for him. Told him it would bring him the greatest love if he wore it. He hadn’t taken it from the box on his dresser in years.

  “It must be their hearts,” Heather continued. “The two red stones represent their hearts. Those subtle lines in the gold down the side of the band represent the bottoms of their two hearts. See?” She outlined a heart using the two stones and the lines.

  Then she pulled out a letter.

  The seal had already been broken, so she carefully unfolded the letter and held it closer to the oil lamp she had lit.

  She glanced up at Zach and then began to read aloud.

  I have built a wall around my heart to protect it from those who think it best that I forget. I will never forget. The wall will crumble long after I’m gone, but it will not matter. Bless you who have opened this box. You are children of my heart and I pray of his. He would have loved all of you as he loved me. His heart had grown so good, so generous, so loving. Liam is not gone far. I can always feel him at my side. My father will have had something to do with his disappearance. Killed him most likely, and though my heart grieves most sorely, I will keep the secret of my father, so I can raise my son to be the man his father was and not be sent away from this, my beloved’s town. I have kept out the ring, his ring, which Rónán Uilliam, my little ’Liam should have someday worn. After his heart, his son is the greatest treasure Liam Bailey ever gave to me.

  May the love of God keep all who come after us safe.

  Colleen Rose Fletcher McClure

  Who was always Rose Bailey in her heart.

  “OMG” was all Heather could muster, and then, “OMG. OMG.”

  “What else is in the box?”

  “Nothing, but don’t you see? It’s a riddle.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

&nbs
p; PATTY FROM THE O’Reilly service station didn’t look up from her paperwork when Addy asked where the Three Sisters bed-and-breakfast was. She pointed. “Treacher Avenue.”

  Addy had kept her smile to herself and started out on foot toward the downtown. Treacher must be there somewhere. The town was laid out between the hills that rose behind it and the ocean. If she walked down Church Street, she was certain to run into that particular avenue eventually.

  She didn’t have that much to carry—her notebook computer bag and her tote bag. She had shoved her clothing and the candles and lighter Zach had given to her into the tote. “You don’t want to be in a coastal village after dark without some kind of light,” he had told her. He must have expected the lights to be out for days.

  Anyway, she wasn’t sure she would be able to light the candles because each time she did she’d think of him. Though each minute she spent in darkness, especially darkness broken only by firelight, she’d think of him.

  He had offered her a jacket, but she insisted the coat might connect her to him and what she didn’t say aloud was she didn’t want to be reminded of him every second she wore the coat. At this chilly moment as she hiked down Church Street, she was a bit gloomy she hadn’t accepted.

  As far as she knew, there were no other journalists in the town. According to Owen’s news from the Pirate’s Roost, the state and local law enforcement were out near the highway checking identification and if you didn’t live in Bailey’s Cove, you didn’t get in. With only one road leading into and out of town, it wasn’t hard to maintain the security shield protecting the town from ne’er-do-wells—like Wally Harriman and Jacko Wilson.

  Zach’s being up here during a hurricane might just turn out to be his lucky break. With the sun shining down on her, she could believe, it might be hers also, if she wasn’t so cold.

  Cars and trucks passed her by and she looked longingly at them. She wondered if any of them would even hesitate, let alone, stop for the reporter. Patty had clearly known who she was, so word must spread quickly even during a hurricane.