“Yeah, yeah. Sell it somewhere else. I meant what I said—you owe me.”
She blew him a kiss and hung up. Mathias stared at the screen before closing the program and reaching for his cell phone.
“Hello?”
Some people’s voices were distorted over the phone, but not Carol’s. That combination of slightly sexy, slightly sweet came through perfectly. Mathias told himself to ignore the automatic tightening in his gut.
“It’s Mathias. I need your help.”
“Don’t you want to start by asking about my day? Or commenting on the weather?”
“Not really.”
“You’re such a guy. Fine. What’s wrong? And if it’s about Sophie, I’m going to tell you to suck it up. She’s a sweet little girl and you are more than capable of taking care of her.”
“Thanks for your undying emotional support,” he said drily. “I’m calling because my future sister-in-law wants me to help plan her wedding. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I would be a disaster and I need you to help me.”
“Shouldn’t you call Violet? She’s the one with the style sense.”
“I don’t want Violet.”
He spoke without thinking and then was stuck with the truth hanging out there—flapping in the breeze. He wanted Carol, he had for a long time. Things being what they were, he wasn’t going to do anything about the wanting, but helping him with the wedding wasn’t that. It was...
He realized he’d called Carol without a second thought, without considering who would be better. Why was that? Maybe because of the dreams, or maybe because...
“My sister will be heartbroken.” Carol sounded more cheerful than upset, then she laughed. “Well, crap. I just realized you’re asking me because I’m a woman. Just to be clear, being female doesn’t mean we’re all born with an innate ability to plan a wedding.”
“Sure you are. It comes with having breasts.”
“You’re the most annoying man on the planet.”
“So that’s a yes?”
She sighed. “Yes, Mathias, I will help you plan the wedding. I assume it’s in town?”
“At Weddings Out of the Box.”
“Perfect! Pallas will make sure we don’t mess up.”
“I’ll let you know when we have our first meeting. And thanks, Carol.”
“You’re welcome.”
She hung up. He did the same and left his phone on the desk before walking back to the glass piece he’d been working on. The small giraffe was maybe eight inches tall. The features were all there, but the little statue was static. He wanted movement and didn’t know how to make that happen.
Nick walked into the studio. “Hey. Didn’t you have a call with Maya?”
“She wants me to help with her wedding.”
Nick grinned. “Better you than me.”
“Apparently. Obviously I’m the one she trusts.”
“Or she figures you’re the soft touch.”
“Either way, I’m the good brother.”
Mathias studied the giraffe before tossing it into the recycling bin where it shattered into dozens of pieces.
“You gotta stop doing that,” Nick told him. “It was good.”
“Not good enough. If it’s not perfect, it can’t live.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Nick asked.
Mathias ignored the question.
“What about those?” His brother pointed to the shelves filled with imperfect pieces. Plates that weren’t exactly round or vases that sloped on one side. “They’re still alive.”
“Not alive, just not worth destroying.” They were pedestrian and didn’t matter. The everyday stuff was simply how he made his living. It wasn’t art.
Natalie came into the studio with Sophie on her leash. “I have to go run some errands,” she said, crossing to him. “You’re going to have to deal with your dog.”
“She’s not my dog,” Mathias muttered, only to have Sophie shoot him a wounded look. As if she’d understood what he was saying.
He took the leash. Sophie turned her back to him. He sighed. Why was this happening to him? First the dog and now a wedding. It wasn’t fair.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry. You’re a good girl.”
Sophie still kept her back to him.
Giving in to the inevitable, Mathias opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a bag of dog treats. Sophie spun to face him, her ears forward, her tail going about eighty miles an hour.
“Apparently you’re forgiven,” Nick pointed out. “It’s good to see you finally in a relationship.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SWEET DREAMS INN off of Eternal Drive was the stuff of nightmares—at least for Ulrich. His plan had been to leave Happily Inc after he concluded his business with Violet Lund—thief and swindler—return to Los Angeles and catch a flight back to England. Only nothing had gone according to plan.
His meeting with the surprisingly attractive and very animated woman had left him feeling both awkward and confused. She had been able to produce a bill of sale for the buttons his grandmother had sent, and buttons were not what had been stolen from the house. Was she not the thief and if not her, then who?
Ulrich had driven to LA only to reschedule his flight and return to Happily Inc. The Sweet Dreams Inn had been the first hotel he’d seen, so he’d pulled in. Too late he’d discovered it was a themed hotel with each of the rooms representing something ridiculous. For reasons not completely clear to him, he’d agreed to a couple of nights in the Drive-In Room, which was how he found himself with a mattress fit into a red, 1959 Cadillac convertible, a television the size of a movie screen and a sitting room decorated like a concession stand. Even he had to admit the car was beautiful—with big fins and white-walled tires. Still, it wasn’t where one expected to sleep. Regardless of the strange surroundings, the Wi-Fi was excellent and the kitchen delivered meals to his room.
Ulrich had spent nearly a day researching Violet Lund and antique buttons only to come to the conclusion that it was more than possible that she had been telling the truth. There was money to be made in the world of buttons. Even more troubling, it seemed Miss Violet Lund was nothing more than a very honest shopkeeper.
She had no criminal record, no trouble with the IRS, not even a ticket. He’d used several online sites to investigate her and she’d come back annoyingly normal and law-abiding. How could he have been so wrong?
He was never wrong—he made it a point to be sure of things. He’d only been seriously fooled once in his life and that had been by his ex-wife, Penelope. In that case, the deception had been deliberate—at least on her part. Thinking about that didn’t help him at all, and he mentally turned his back on his former wife. The bigger question was what to do about Violet. He’d slept on the information, then had woken up in the morning with no clear idea of what to do next.
After showering, he ordered breakfast and knew he had to come up with a plan—only he had no idea what it would be. He opened another file on his computer and reviewed the list of missing items provided to him by his housekeeper and his own investigation.
The trouble had started three months ago when Ulrich had ordered a complete inventory of the house, including the attics. The project had taken over a month and they’d discovered some truly wonderful pieces. But many things had also been missing.
The public rooms were closely monitored and protected, and the guests who stayed in the hotel wing didn’t have access to the private residence without an escort. The previous inventory had been conducted by his father, nearly five years before. Ulrich had no way of knowing what had been taken when. Or so he’d thought.
His grandmother’s new secretary had offered a possible explanation when she’d told him about the packages being sent to one Violet Lund in
Happily Inc, California. He’d kept watch and had seen the last one mailed himself. He’d guessed on the delivery date and when it had aligned with his trip to Los Angeles, he’d decided to make a slight detour to confront the thief. All for naught.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference, then answered the call.
“Please tell me you’re having tea. Good, English tea. What they serve here is dreadful.”
His grandmother laughed. “Poor Ulrich, lost in America. I wish I could say the adventure will do you good, but we both know that’s not the case. How is Los Angeles? Is it sunny this morning? Are you staying by the ocean? I have to say, the Pacific is my favorite of all the oceans.”
Ulrich briefly thought about not telling his grandmother where he was, then dismissed the idea. He was a man of his word and as such, truthful in all things. At least when it came to those he loved. As that list seemed to begin and end with his grandmother—in terms of people and not places—he had to come clean.
“I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in Happily Inc.”
“What on earth are you doing—” His grandmother went silent, then sighed. “You’re there to see Violet? I can’t imagine why.”
“I thought she was stealing.”
“Ulrich! No. You couldn’t. How do you even know I have business with her?”
“I saw the packages.”
His grandmother sniffed. “You mean that horrible woman you made me hire has been spying on me. I’m getting rid of her, Ulrich. You may be the duke but I’m your grandmother and I won’t be told what to do by you or anyone. I’ve disliked her from the start. You convinced me I was being unfair, but I know the only reason she took the position was to be in proximity to you. I’m sure she was hoping you would fall madly in love with her.”
Ulrich thought about the twentysomething woman who served as his grandmother’s secretary. He honestly couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. Nothing about her was memorable. The same could not be said for the very fiery Violet, he thought. Her green eyes had flashed with annoyance, then anger, then disdain. She’d been so beautiful, so alive. He’d always preferred quiet, plain women, but there was something about her riot of red curls and the way she’d moved.
“Ulrich?”
“Yes, Grandmother. You’re quite correct. You are more than capable of hiring or firing any one of your staff. And I apologize for listening to your secretary when she told me about the packages being mailed.”
“As you should.”
He smiled. Despite her stern words, her tone had already softened.
“If you are purchasing buttons yourself and then selling them to Violet, what about the other items that have gone missing?”
His grandmother sighed. “That is a more complicated question than one would think.”
“I have little to occupy my day, so take your time.”
“Fine. If you must know, I sold several of the paintings. I didn’t mean to, but each one was admired by one of our guests. They were lesser works and I had them appraised. I know the price was fair. It was three years ago, when we had the trouble with the roof and the plumbing at the same time.”
Ulrich turned away from his computer and shook his head. “The money you said you’d been saving for an emergency?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. It was from the paintings.”
Her supposed emergency fund—nearly a hundred thousand pounds—had come in handy. While Battenberg Park had been in his family for nearly five hundred years, history came at a price. There was always something to be repaired or replaced. A wet and cold summer had meant a reduction in crops and had kept away the tourists. That, combined with a long-needed roof replacement and some plumbing issues had meant every spare penny had gone back into the house.
The following year had been better and the year after, better still. The coffers were, if not full, then comfortably plump. Technically the estate was never without the possibility of cash. There was always something around that could be sold, but Ulrich wanted to maintain as much of his heritage as possible. Not that he had heirs, but one day, with luck, the family line would be safe for another generation or two.
“Several of the crystal pieces were broken,” his grandmother continued. “I knew you would be upset, so I didn’t tell you.”
He started to ask how that could have happened, then realized the answer. A school for the disabled operated quite near the estate. His grandmother made it a point to hire staff from the school. A few of the students lacked physical mobility and dexterity. It was not impossible to imagine a crystal vase, or five, tumbling to the ground.
He rubbed his forehead. “And the rest of it?”
“A few were donated to worthy causes to help them raise money, there was a small fire in one of the storage sheds while you were traveling to—”
“A fire? You didn’t want to mention a fire?”
“You were on your honeymoon. I knew you would have returned. It seemed easier to handle things myself. Which I did. My point is, you were wrong about Violet. I buy buttons for her when I find them. Nothing else.”
“So it appears.”
He made a mental note to have a more thorough conversation with his grandmother when he returned home. He could only imagine what else she’d kept from him in the name of handling things herself.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice oddly contrite. “I know how much Battenberg Park means to you. I didn’t want to upset you, but it seems my good intentions have had unforeseen consequences.”
“You have no idea.”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but apparently he had because his grandmother’s voice sharpened.
“What does that mean? You haven’t already spoken to Violet, have you? Oh, Ulrich. She’s lovely and I adore her. If you’ve offended her or hurt her feelings...”
“I’ll make it right.” He didn’t want to, but he had no choice. It was a matter of honor. “I have a teleconference later this morning but I will go see her in the afternoon.”
“And apologize.”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“With great sincerity?”
“I promise.”
“Good. She’s very charming, Ulrich. I think you’ll like her if you give her a chance. You’ve met her, you know. Years ago.”
“So she informed me.”
At his house, apparently, although he had no recollection of the event.
“Then I’ll leave you to it. I love you, Ulrich. Be a good boy.”
He smiled. “I will. I love you as well, Grandmother. Goodbye.”
He hung up, then set his cell phone on the desk. He would speak to Violet that afternoon, as he’d said, then drive back to Los Angeles in the morning and get a return flight to London. There was nothing to keep him here. At home there was work to be done. Always work. As for someone special—he’d long since given up on that, but it was time to get on with finding a wife and producing heirs. That was as much his responsibility as the roof or the glazing. And he’d never been a man who shirked what needed to be done.
* * *
CAROL COULDN’T REMEMBER how the standing date with her friends had begun. Perhaps it had existed before she and Violet had moved to Happily Inc and they’d simply been invited to join in. Regardless, it was one of her favorite times—enjoying a couple of hours with the women in her life.
The hosting duties rotated and whoever served as host chose either lunch or dinner and provided the entrée and drinks. Everyone else brought something and a good time was had by all.
If the weather cooperated, Carol always picked lunch when it was her turn. Her friends joined her out by the largest grove of trees on the faux savanna. Her father and uncle set out a big table and chairs for them. Carol had a camp stove where she heated the chi
cken she’d cooked that morning and would warm the tortillas. The other ingredients for the taco bar were ready in plastic containers and she’d made a sparkling pink non-alcoholic punch to add a festive touch.
“Hi!” Silver Tesdal called as she walked along the path. The tall, leggy platinum blonde carried a shopping bag in one hand. “I always feel as if I need a passport when I come here. I love it!”
They hugged, then Silver set down her bag. “I have the strangest dessert ever, but I think it’s a real find. We’ll have to see.”
Carol eyed the plain white bag. “Now I’m curious.”
“As you should be.”
Before Carol could ask more, the other women arrived. Her sister, Violet, Natalie Kaleta from the gallery, Pallas Saunders who owned Weddings Out of the Box, and Wynn Beauchene, owner of the town’s graphic design and print store.
Violet, who knew about the tacos, had brought chips, dip and guacamole. The other women contributed a green salad and cookies. Carol reached for the champagne glasses she’d carted along, then nodded at Pallas who was doing her best not to grin too broadly.
“Show them,” Carol told her friend.
Pallas laughed, then held out her left hand. A diamond solitaire sparkled on her ring finger.
Violet, Silver and Wynn shrieked, then lunged for their friend and started a group hug. Carol was waved in and they all hung on in celebration.
“How long?” Violet demanded when they’d released each other. “When did he propose?”
“Saturday at the under-the-sea wedding.”
Silver looked from the pink, bubbly drink to Carol. “You knew.”
Carol raised a shoulder. “I helped Nick pick out the ring. He had it narrowed down to three and texted me pictures from the jewelry store.” She’d been surprised Nick would ask her opinion but then had guessed he’d asked Mathias to name a woman who could be trusted not to spill the secret.
She smiled at Pallas. “So if you don’t like it, it’s my fault.”
Pallas clutched her left hand to her chest. “What’s not to like? It’s beautiful.”
Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance Page 6