Dream Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “That doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Laura told her.

  “You were in love with Peter, weren’t you?”

  Laura looked down at her feet, told herself it was necessary to watch her step. “Yes. Yes, I was. Once.”

  “There’s my point. You were in love with him, started a life together, and then it all fell apart. Do you have any idea how many relationships I’ve watched unravel or just rip? I couldn’t count them. Nothing lasts forever.”

  “My parents?”

  “Are the shining example of an exception to the rule.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” Kate grabbed at her arm. “Are you and Josh thinking of getting married?”

  “No. Good God, no. Absolutely not. Neither of us is the ‘till death do us part’ type.” Needing to be closer to the sea, Margo picked her way down some rocks.

  “Do you want to be in love with him?”

  At Kate’s question she looked over, annoyed, impatient. “It’s not a choice.”

  “Of course it is.” Kate didn’t believe that love, or any other emotion, was uncontrollable.

  “Love isn’t a spring suit,” Laura put in, “that you try on for size.”

  Kate merely moved her shoulders and scrambled agilely down to the ledge. “If it doesn’t fit, you put it aside, as far as I’m concerned. So, Margo, does it fit or not?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m wearing it.”

  “Maybe you’ll grow into it.” Or, Laura worried, grow out of it.

  It was the tone that made Margo stop. Concern was a layer over doubt. “I really do love him,” she said quietly. “I don’t know exactly how to handle it yet, but I do. We don’t seem to be able to talk it through sensibly. I know, I can see that part of him is hung up on the way I’ve lived. The men I’ve been with.”

  “Oh, right. Like he’s been in a monastery copying scripture for the last ten years.” Kate squared her shoulders, her feminist flag waving high. “It’s none of his damn business if you’ve taken on the Fifth, Six, and Seventh fleets. A woman has just as much right as a man to be stupidly and irresponsibly promiscuous.”

  Margo opened her mouth, but for a moment she could only laugh at the cleverly insulting support. “Thank you so much, Sister Immaculata.”

  “Anytime, Sister Slut.”

  “My point is,” Margo continued dryly, “that it’s not just garden-variety jealousy with Josh. I could overlook that, or be annoyed by that. In this case, he has cause to doubt, and I’m not sure how long it will take to prove to both of us that that part of my life is over.”

  “I think you’re being too easy on him,” Kate muttered.

  “And too hard on myself?”

  Kate smiled cheerfully. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then I will,” Laura said with an elbow jab to Kate’s ribs.

  “It’s more than the men.” Staring out to sea, Margo tried to make sense of it all. “That’s just a kind of symptom, I suppose. He says he’s proud of me, what I’ve done to put my life back in order. I’d say he’s more surprised than anything else. And because of that,” she said slowly, “I realize that it’s unlikely he really expects me to follow it all the way through, to stand and to stay. Why should he?” she murmured, remembering his sharp reaction to her recent photo shoot. “He’s waiting for me to take off again, to run to something bigger, easier.”

  “I’d say you don’t have enough faith in him.” Frowning, Kate studied Margo’s face. “Are you planning to run?”

  “No.” It was something, at last, that she could be absolutely certain of. “I’ve finished running. But with my track record—”

  “The two of you better start concentrating on now,” Laura interrupted. “Where you are now and what you feel for each other now. All the rest, well, that just brought you to where you’re standing, and who you’re standing with.”

  It sounded so simple, so clean. Margo struggled to believe it. “Okay. I think it’s best if we take it one step at a time,” Margo decided. “Like a recovery program, in reverse.” Reaching down, she picked up a pebble, tossed it out to sea. “Meanwhile, we’re in meanwhile. It might be fun.”

  “Love’s supposed to be.” Laura smiled. “When it’s not hell.”

  “You’re the only one of the three of us who’s been there.” Margo glanced at Kate for confirmation.

  “Affirmative.”

  “If it doesn’t bother you, would you mind telling me how you came out the other side. I mean how did you fall out?”

  It did bother her. It scraped her raw inside and left her a failure. But she would never admit it. “It was gradual, like water against rock gradually wears it down. It wasn’t a flash, like waking up one morning and realizing I wasn’t in love with my husband. It was a slow, nasty process, a kind of calcifying of emotions. In the end, I felt nothing for him at all.”

  A terrifying thought, Margo decided. Not to feel anything for Josh. She was sure she’d rather hate him than feel nothing for him. Or worse, much worse, she realized, to have him feel nothing for her. “Could you have stopped it?”

  “No. We might have been able to stop it, but I couldn’t. Not alone. He never loved me.” And oh, that stung. “That makes it entirely different than you and Josh.”

  “I’m sorry, Laura.”

  “Don’t be.” Easier, Laura leaned against Margo’s supporting arm. “I have two beautiful daughters. That’s a pretty good deal all around. And you have a chance for something special, and uniquely yours.”

  “I might take that chance.” She plucked another pebble, tossed it.

  “Well, if you’re looking to start a love nest, an account I have is unloading a property about half a mile south of here.” Getting into the spirit, Kate scooped up pebbles herself. “A beauty, too. California Spanish.”

  “We’re perfectly happy in the suite.” Safe in the suite, a small voice whispered in her head. In limbo.

  “Whatever works for you,” Kate shrugged. She believed strongly in the investment value of real estate. A home was one thing—it couldn’t be measured in terms of short- or long-term capital gains. But property, well chosen, was a necessary addition to any well-rounded portfolio. “But it’s got a killer view.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I delivered some forms there once.” She caught Margo’s smirk. “Gutter mind. The client is female. She got the house in the divorce settlement and wants to sell it and buy something smaller, lower-maintenance.”

  “Is that Lily Farmer’s house?” Laura asked.

  “One and the same.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful. Two stories. Stucco and tile. They had it completely restored about two years ago.”

  “Yep. Finished it up just in time to say ‘adios.’ He got the boat, the BMW, the Labrador retriever, and the coin collection. She got the house, the Land Rover, and the Siamese cat.” Kate grinned. “There are no secrets from your CPA.”

  “That’s just the sort of thing I’m talking about, and why I don’t want a house, a four-wheel-drive, or a dog.” The very idea made Margo’s stomach hurt. “I’ve simplified my life. Streamlined it, anyway, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fuck it up again.” She had a handful of stones now and was shooting them over the edge like bullets. “What was it my mother always said? Begin as you mean to go on? Well, that’s just what I’m doing. Begin simple, keep it simple. Josh doesn’t want all those responsibilities any more than I do. We’ll leave it—”

  “Wait!” Laura grabbed her wrist before she could heave the next stone. “What is that? It’s not a rock.”

  Frowning, Margo began to rub it with her thumb. “Someone must have dropped some change. I didn’t notice. It’s just a . . . Oh, my Jesus.”

  As she brushed off the dirt and sand, it gleamed at her, a small disk nestled in the palm of her hand.

  “It’s gold.” Kate closed her hand over Laura’s, and the three of them were linked. “It’s a doubloon. Holy God, it’s a gold doubloon.”

 
“No, no.” Breathless, Margo shook her head. “It’s got to be one of those fake tokens they give away at the arcade in town.” But it had weight. And such a fine gleam. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Look at the date,” Laura managed. “1845.”

  “Seraphina.” Margo pressed a hand to her head as it revolved like a carousel. “Seraphina’s dowry. Could it be?”

  “It has to be,” Kate insisted.

  “But it was just lying there. We’ve walked along here hundreds of times. We even searched here when we were kids. We never found anything.”

  “I guess we never looked in the right place.” Kate’s eyes danced with excitement as she leaned up to give Margo a hard, smacking kiss. “Let’s look now.”

  As laughingly eager as the girls they had once been, they crawled over the dirt and rocks, ruining manicures, nicking fingers.

  “Maybe she didn’t leave it hidden after all,” Margo suggested. “Maybe when he didn’t come back and she decided she wouldn’t live without him, she just chucked it all. Scattering coins into the sea.”

  “Bite your tongue.” Kate wiped sweat from her brow with a dusty forearm. “The three of us always swore we’d find it, and now that we’ve actually got a piece, you want to have her taking the treasure into the sea with her!”

  “I don’t think she’d do that.” Muffling a yelp as she scraped a knuckle on rock, Laura sat back on her heels. “The dowry wasn’t important to her anymore. Nothing was. Poor thing, she was just a child.” She blew hair out of her eyes. “And speaking of children . . . look at us.”

  It wasn’t the order that made Kate and Margo stop. It was the laughter that rolled out of her. Such a rare sound these days, Laura’s low, gurgling laugh.

  And getting a good look at one of society’s most respected matrons with her hair flying, her face streaked with dirt, her once well-pressed cotton shirt soiled with sweat and grime, Margo laughed with her.

  Then she clutched her stomach and pointed at Kate, who was on her hands and knees staring at them. She managed to clutch a rock before the next spurt of laughter rolled her off the cliff.

  “Jesus, Kate! Jesus, even your eyebrows are dirty.”

  “You’re not exactly bandbox-fresh yourself, pal. Only you would go treasure hunting in white silk.”

  “Oh, shit, I forgot.” Wincing, Margo looked down at herself. The once spotless and fluid tunic was now filthy and stuck to her skin. She let out a low moan. “This used to be an Ungaro.”

  “Now it’s a rag,” Kate said smartly. “Next time try jeans and a T-shirt like the rest of the peasants.” Kate rose and brushed the dirt off her denim. “We’re never going to find anything this way. We need to organize. We need a metal detector.”

  “That’s actually a good idea,” Margo decided. “Where do we get one?”

  By the time Margo got back to the penthouse it was dark. She limped through the front door and began stripping as she aimed directly for the whirlpool.

  Josh halted in the act of pouring a glass of Poully Fuisse. “What in God’s name have you been doing?” Glass cracked against wood as he rushed to her. “Was there an accident? Are you hurt?”

  “No accident, and I hurt everywhere.” She whimpered as she reached to turn on the hot water. Her fingers cramped painfully. “Josh, if you really do love me, you’ll get me a glass of whatever you were pouring and you won’t, no matter how much you want to, laugh at me.”

  He couldn’t spot any blood as she eased her body into the water. Relieved, he went back and brought two glasses filled with pale gold wine. “Tell me this—did you fall off a cliff?”

  “Not exactly.” She took a glass from him and downed the wine in a few greedy swallows. She took a breath, handed him the empty glass, then took the full one. “Thanks.”

  He only lifted a brow, then went back for the bottle. “I know, you took the girls to the beach and let them bury you in your clothes.”

  She leaned back, groaned. “I work out regularly now. How can there still be muscles I haven’t been using? How can they hurt this much? Can you order me a massage?”

  “I’ll give you one myself if we can stop playing guess what.”

  She opened her eyes. She wanted to see if he laughed. If she spotted so much as a quiver, he’d have to die. “I was with Laura and Kate.”

  “And?”

  “And we were treasure hunting.”

  “You were . . .” He ran his tongue around his teeth. “Hmm.”

  “Was that a chuckle?”

  “No, it was a hmm. You spent the afternoon and a good part of the evening treasure hunting?”

  “On the cliffs. We got a metal detector.”

  “You got a—” He tried manfully to disguise the laugh with a cough, but her eyes narrowed. “Did you figure out how to work it?”

  “I’m not an idiot.” But she pouted and, as the water level rose, hit the button for jets. “Kate did. And before you make any other smart comments, go check the pocket of my slacks out there.” She sank deeper, sipped wine, and felt as though she might live after all. “Then you can apologize.”

  Willing to play along, he set his glass down on the ledge of the tub and sauntered into the other room. Her slacks were near the door, less than a foot in front of where she’d stepped out of her shoes. And they were filthy enough to have him lifting them gingerly with two fingertips.

  “You’re going to need a new treasure-hunting outfit, honey. This one’s shot.”

  “Shut up, Josh. Look in the pocket.”

  “Probably found a diamond that fell out of somebody’s ring,” he muttered. “Thinks she’s hit the mother lode.”

  But his fingers closed over the coin. With a puzzled frown he drew it out. Spanish coin, more than a century old and bright as summer.

  “I don’t hear any laughing out there,” she called out. “Or any apology, either.” She began to hum to herself as the churning water loosened her muscles. Sensing him in the doorway, she flicked him a glance from under her lashes. “You don’t have to grovel. A simple ‘Please forgive me, Margo. I was a fool’ will do nicely.”

  He flipped the coin and caught it neatly before sitting on the ledge. “One doubloon does not a treasure make.”

  “Rudyard Kipling?”

  He had to grin. “J. C. Templeton.”

  “Oh, him.” She closed her eyes. “I always thought he was cynical and overblown.”

  “Take a breath, darling,” he warned, and dunked her.

  When she surfaced, sputtering, he turned the coin over in his hand. “I admit it’s intriguing. Where exactly did you find it?”

  She was pouting and blinking water out of her eyes. “I don’t see why I should tell you. Seraphina’s dowry is a girl thing.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged and picked up his wine. “So, what else did you do today?”

  “At least you could wheedle,” she said in disgust.

  “I’ve cut way back on my wheedling.” He passed her the soap. “You really need this.”

  “Oh, all right, then.” One long, gorgeous leg shot out of the water. She soaped it lavishly. “It was on the cliffs in front of the house. Kate put a pile of stones up to mark the spot. But we searched there for hours after I found the coin and didn’t find so much as a plug nickel.”

  “And what exactly is a plug nickel? Just a rhetorical question,” he said when she hissed at him. “Look, duchess, I’m not going to spoil your fun. You’ve got yourself a nice little prize here. And the date’s right. Who knows?”

  “I know. And Kate and Laura know.” She dragged her fingers through her wet hair. “And I’ll tell you something else. It meant something to Laura. She lost that look in her eyes, that wounded look that always seems to be there if she doesn’t know you’re watching.”

  When his face went grim, she was sorry she’d said it. She covered his hand with hers. “I love her too.”

  “Firing the bastard wasn’t enough.”

  “You broke his nose.”

  “There was
that. I don’t want her hurting. I don’t know anyone who deserves it less than Laura.”

  “Or who seems to handle it better,” she added, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “You should have seen her today. She was laughing and excited. We even got the girls in on it. I haven’t seen Ali smile like that in weeks. It was so much fun. Just the anticipation of what might be there.”

  He eyed the coin again before setting it down to gleam on the ledge. “So when are you going back?”

  “We decided to make it a regular Sunday outing.” She wrinkled her nose at the water. “I might as well be taking a mud bath.” And pulled the plug. “I’m starved. Do you mind eating in tonight? I have to shower off and wash my hair.”

  He watched her rise up, water sluicing off creamy skin in streams. “Can we eat naked?”

  “Depends.” She laughed as she padded toward the shower. “What’s on the menu?”

  The next morning, loose with love, she stretched as Josh maneuvered through traffic. “You didn’t have to drive me in,” she told him, “but I appreciate it.”

  “I want to drop by the resort anyway. Check on a few things.”

  “You haven’t mentioned any travel coming up.”

  “Things are covered.”

  She glanced out the window, as if engrossed in the passing scenery. “Once you replace Peter you’ll have to go back to Europe, I imagine.”

  “Eventually. I’m handling things from here well enough for now.”

  “Is that what you want?” She needed to keep the question easy, for both of them. “To stay here?”

  He was as cautious as she. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve never stayed in one place for long.”

  “There was never a reason to.”

  Her lips curved. “That’s nice. But I don’t want you to feel tied down. Both of us have to understand that the other’s business has demands. If Pretenses continues to do well, I’ll have to start making buying trips.”

  He’d considered that, had already begun working on a solution. “Where did you have in mind?”

  “I’m not sure. Local estate sales won’t do. And for the clothing end of it, I want to try my contacts first. I could probably pitch a better ball in person. L.A. certainly, and New York, Chicago. And if it all keeps rolling, back to Milan, London, Paris.”