by Kim Allred
“I never paid attention to how a newspaper worked.” Adam finally looked at AJ, but he wouldn’t hold her return gaze. “Guess I expected printing presses or something.”
“Printing presses are in the back, but we only print twice a week. And they roll at night.”
“It’s awfully damned quiet in here.”
“We’re not Portland, and even there, I doubt it sounds like newspapers did in the old days, with phones ringing constantly and reporters banging away at typewriters.” AJ turned away from Adam, already tired of the small talk, picking up folders and tucking them away in a drawer. “Is there something you needed?”
“It’s Madelyn.” Adam blurted it out.
“Madelyn.” AJ stopped the shuffling. She wasn’t fond of her, but she didn’t wish her any harm.
If Adam noticed any note of concern in AJ’s voice, he didn’t show it. “You know she’s the committee chair for the hospital’s annual charity event. This year, it’s raising money for the children’s center. A new remodeled wing or family center, something like that.”
“Oh. No. I didn’t know.” AJ went back to rearranging her desk, her concern abated. “It must be a lot of work for her.”
“I guess that’s why she’s given me a task this year.”
“You?” AJ had to smother a laugh. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“It’s an important cause. The children’s center is critical for our area. We’re so far away from the bigger cities and hospitals.”
Adam’s voice held a note of earnestness, and it silenced AJ. Neither he nor Madelyn ever spoke about the scare with Charlotte, but a family center would have meant the world to them back then. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to belittle your efforts. It’s good of you to help out.”
“That’s okay.” Adam leaned against a desk, a slight twist to his lips. “We’re looking for items for the silent auction.”
She wasn’t sure what he could possibly need from her. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, you buy antiques, and I know you sometimes resell them. I was thinking you might have something you could donate.”
AJ sat back, calling herself all kinds of stupid. She had never considered donating any of her purchases. “I never thought of that.”
Adam brightened. “So maybe if you had, oh, I don’t know, maybe a piece of jewelry or something.”
“Jewelry.”
“Yeah.” Adam played with his cuff links. “You know, there are lots of women at these things, and we have several well-to-dos coming in from Portland and Salem. Women love jewelry.” He forced another laugh.
AJ mentally sorted through the items she had at home, something she wouldn’t miss. “You’re right. Jewelry would be the best, although I have a couple of interesting things the men might like.”
Adam pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his feet, but it didn’t look natural for him. “I would think jewelry would catch the eye of the women in the crowd.”
“Hmm.” AJ searched her memory. “I don’t know if I have anything. I’m not much of a jewelry collector.”
The magical strings holding Adam up snapped, his shoulders slumping. He seemed to lose his focus. With a tired expression, he tried again. “Oh, well, I didn’t know if maybe you picked something up recently, or you know.” Adam reverted to a quick look around the office again, avoiding AJ’s intense stare. “Or anything.”
She thought about getting Adam a chair before he fell down, but didn’t want to extend his visit. Instead, she stared at a spot on the wall, just past his left shoulder. There was a necklace she had acquired about a month ago. She never sought out jewelry, but as soon as she had seen this particular piece, it called to her. A stone so unique, she had pushed the woman into selling it to her for a pretty penny. She tucked it away as soon as she brought it home, meaning to research the piece, but had forgotten about it.
“I did buy something a while back, but I’m not ready to let it go,” AJ said. “I’m still checking to see if it’s authentic.” Hope flickered, then died in Adam’s eyes “But I’m sure I can find something equally splendid for you. When do you need it?”
“I don’t know. Madelyn never gave me the date. I can’t keep track of those things. She just asked for the donations. Maybe a week or two, I’ll get back with you. Thanks. Madelyn will be thrilled. Thanks again.” Adam finished in a fluster, and he scurried back down the aisle, talking to himself.
“What the hell?” AJ said aloud. This was an Adam she had never seen before. He had to have an ulterior motive. Madelyn might have gotten Adam to help with the charity event, but, if anything, Adam would have called, refusing to demean himself with an actual visit. More likely, he would have asked Joyce, his assistant, to contact her. Joyce was the one who called about plans for their mother’s birthdays or the holidays. It was so much easier for Adam if he didn’t have to talk to her.
Normally, AJ would have picked up on the jolt of a story beneath his hollowed look and unusual behavior, or at least would have once again questioned his interest in Westcliffe. But she had more crucial things vying for her time, namely one ship’s captain she would be meeting for dinner. She reviewed her list of interview questions again, hating to admit that Finn intrigued her far more than a simple story. Ethan’s words of caution echoed, and she wondered if there might be truth behind his concern. She should talk to Stella about it, but she wouldn’t have time before dinner. Had she found the time, Stella would have known and been able to tell her friend, that she had already fallen through the looking glass.
The afternoon dragged, the hours endless since AJ had left his place, and the time divulged no answers to Ethan’s dilemma. He slumped in his office chair and propped his long legs on his desk. He gazed out the window but could have been sleeping. Eyelids partially closed, his body draped across his chair like a marionette, its strings snipped. But his muscles were taut, his pulse beat rapidly, and an underlying sharpness hid like a lounging cat, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting meal that wandered too close. His thoughts churned through the time line, trying to pinpoint his next course of action.
Ethan couldn’t believe Finn had taken such a risky path by soliciting help from an outsider, yet it could prove the wisest course. He hadn’t gotten this close in the past, but his mission was to watch and follow, to gather the intelligence. It took all of Ethan’s resolve to resist doing more. He tired of the chase.
With all the hunting, this was the first time a third party became so entangled in the plot. Well, there was one other time, but Ethan had closed the door on that memory. The part he was willing to recall was the local authorities’ interest in their mission. He never fully understood how they became involved, but he had been able to extricate himself from the scrape, and in doing so had helped the man he had been following, the man he now knew as Murphy.
This time was different. He had the damnedest of luck to meet a reporter, someone with a natural gift for sniffing out a mystery in a story, particularly one with an equal passion for history. He had walked such a tightrope with her, only to discover she had been the one to find Murphy, another man who had been so careful to stay out of the public light. It was finally all coming together, but in a way Ethan would never have thought possible, and for the first time, the outcome was moving out of his control. There had to be a way to get AJ away from Murphy.
It might be possible. And there was only one person with the ability to help.
32
Joe’s Place was busier than AJ expected on a weeknight, and seating was limited. She slowed when the hostess moved toward a secluded booth toward the back of the restaurant. She preferred to sit out in the open with more people around her, but the only other choices were by the front door or the kitchen, so she took the proffered table. The bar area might have been better, but it was even busier with the lingering work crowd.
It didn’t matter. They were in a crowded restaurant. She swept away Ethan’s nagging words.
She fidgeted at th
e table, rearranging napkins and utensils on the table, but she didn’t have to wait long. Finn entered, wearing a dark green shirt that set off his tanned skin and green eyes. He had exchanged his blue jeans for a pair of black ones, and several women watched him cut through the restaurant. He focused on her, and she cursed the tingle. AJ went back to fingering the utensils and moving the condiment tray to the back of the table, wishing she had invited Stella.
Finn slid into the booth with his typical aplomb, his smile warm, the normal mischievous grin tucked away. “Am I late?”
“No. I just got here.”
“Good. I lost track of time, and Jackson was late in picking me up.”
“Jackson brought you? Where is he?”
Now the slanted grin was back. “I didn’t invite him to dinner. My story is just for you.”
AJ blushed. “He’s not waiting out in the parking lot, is he?”
Finn shook his head and sat back, his gaze admonishing. “No, that would be rude. He had an errand to run before going back home.”
“Oh.” AJ looked through one of the menus the hostess had left and wondered how he planned on getting back to the ship.
Finn moved his menu away. “So what would you recommend?”
AJ ordered for both of them, and while they worked their way through dinner, Finn asked her about the town, prying out pieces of personal information along the way. Once again, the questions focused on her, but she didn’t mind. She found herself talking about the special bond with her father, and her casual rapport with her mother. But when the conversation turned to talk of her brother, AJ became taciturn.
“You’re touchy when it comes to your brother.”
“Not all family gets along.”
“But you have a small family, and with your father’s death, well, I would think you’d grow closer.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t happen. I guess instead of bringing us closer, his death released us to our own paths.” AJ grew quiet. “I never understood it before, but Dad was the one tying us together. You usually expect the mom to be the glue.”
Finn shook his head. “I still have a hard time grasping the discord. I know brothers and sisters can try each other’s patience growing up, but there should be something deeper, a loyalty if you will.”
AJ laughed, but the intensity in his gaze stifled it. “I guess it doesn’t always work like that. Do you have siblings? You seem to have a pretty narrow look at it.”
Finn sent her a lightning-fast flinty stare. Before he could answer, the waiter came to take their plates, and once he was gone, the moment left with him.
“So now I know the topic of your brother is best avoided. Is there any other subject I should sidestep? Current relationships perhaps.”
“The trade for dinner was a story. Not my story, but yours.”
“Aye, it was.” Finn sighed and sat back. “A comfortable sofa and warm fire would make for a better telling, but a good cup of coffee will have to do.”
Stella sighed and stretched out on the chaise. She loved her patio. The whole day melted away as she laid her head back, allowing the aromatherapy to loosen the knots along her back. Her clients had dragged her through a roller coaster tour, constantly changing the requirements for their next house. She needed a huge pantry and a room for crafts. He wanted a home office and a big backyard. Then she fell in love with a house with a small back yard and a smaller kitchen, but she loved the master bedroom. He was enamored with one that had a small outbuilding made into a shop, and Stella would bet a year’s salary he would make it into a man cave before he would ever consider putting a tool in there—the man was a priss.
A mercurial client usually enthralled her, and this was where she excelled in guiding her clients to the house they needed, helping them look past the things they thought they wanted. But for some reason, these clients grated on her. She didn’t know why and didn’t care. She wanted to get away from them and call it a day.
Stella had planned to call AJ to meet for happy hour, but all she could muster was finding her way to her patio. Better than a hot bath, and so much easier for drinking wine. She preferred her little white lights artfully arranged throughout the garden to any candlelit bathroom. No fuss, no muss, and they came on automatically at dusk. And she never worried about soap suds in her glass. No. She took a sip of wine and melted into the soft padding of her lounger. Nirvana.
So when the doorbell rang and the knocking at the door commenced, she cussed at the intrusion. She rarely received strangers at her door—the “no soliciting” sign took care of most of them. She cursed all the way to the front door, all her peaceful calm erased, as if the last hour never happened. She hated that.
The angry response she planned for her unwelcome visitor evaporated when she saw Ethan standing in her doorway. Her smile was immediate and natural, but it faded in light of his stern and agitated look.
“Good evening, Stella.” Ethan managed a small smile for her. “I don’t mean to intrude without calling first.”
Stella stood aside for him to enter. “I was relaxing in the back. It looks like you could use some time back there. It’s been a helluva day for me.”
Ethan followed her to the patio where Stella pointed him to the stuffed wicker chair. Once the chair swallowed him, she handed him a glass of scotch, then refilled her wineglass. “I believe I heard you say you liked a good scotch. I don’t drink the stuff myself, but this should be well aged. For the price, I have to assume it’s top shelf.” Stella returned to her lounger, hoping to retrieve some small essence of her tranquility.
Ethan sipped the scotch. “It’s good.”
Stella would normally have launched into some inane chatter to fill the silence, but she sensed they both needed time for the alcohol to take effect. She needed to reclaim her Zen, and as much as she would enjoy his company, there was no hope this was a social call.
That was unfortunate. Stella was getting used to his stoic nature, his stern and broody look that could transform with a twinkle of a smile. She was comfortable watching him sip his scotch and letting him be the first to break the silence.
Ethan looked around the patio. “You have a beautiful garden. I’m sorry I’m ruining what looks like a relaxing evening.”
“You haven’t ruined it yet, but it looks like you’re planning on changing that.”
Ethan set down the scotch and folded his hands. He leaned forward and tried to smile. “I have found myself in a dilemma, and I was hoping you could help.”
Finn sipped his coffee and set it on the cleared table. Nothing between them now except their cups and the tale he owed her. He was lucky to have gotten AJ to share as much as she had of her own story—her happy childhood, her interest in history. If only he had met her earlier. Jackson was a good enough guide around town, but who wouldn’t prefer the company of a beautiful woman? Her refusal to talk about her bother and her animosity toward him surprised Finn. But knowing what little he did of Adam, he could sympathize. Yet it always dismayed him when some brothers and sisters didn’t get along. His gaze slid to hers as she waited for him to begin, her questions set aside for the moment.
“The ship was built in 1790. I think I told you that.”
AJ sat quiet and unmoving.
It was purchased by a duke who was very powerful at the time, but as was the way back then, power, who had it and how it was used, was unpredictable and ever-changing. The duke eventually lost favor and, with it, much of his fortune, or so it was said. So he sold his ship for some coin and a promise of an errand to be run. Now the man who bought the ship was new to the sea, with only a touch of experience in his youth. He thought he had fallen into grand luck and would be on his way to new adventures. In some wicked way, he was, just not one of his conception.”
Finn stopped to sip his coffee, tilting the cup toward him, staring into it as if the dark brew held some of the story, like tea leaves telling of one’s future. He gazed into the cup as he continued. “This new captain was soon to set sa
il on his first maiden voyage on his fine new ship, when he was approached by a man of the duke’s. The ship hadn’t even seen its first sail with the new owner, and the marker for the promised errand was being called in. The captain was disheartened for it to be his first sail, but if he could get this business out of the way, full ownership would be his.
“So a fortnight later, he took on cargo that was said to be owned by the duke, and he brought aboard a mysterious passenger that never showed their face, who was given the captain’s own quarters. The cargo and the passenger were taken to a port off the northern coast of France, which at the time was turbulent with revolution. Once the voyage had ended, the ship was his, complete with papers showing his ownership back to the day the coin was delivered.
“Feeling good, the deed done and the ship fully his, he never questioned the date of transfer and sailed to a few small ports on the continent before turning the ship for home.”
Finn stopped again, his coffee pushed aside as he searched AJ’s face. “Is this the type of story you were looking for?”
AJ nodded and laid a hand on his arm, seeming transfixed by the tale he was weaving. Finn stared at her hand, then took it in his own, keeping his grip gentle and warm. He turned her hand over and looked at her palm, running his fingers over it, then he stroked the lines on her wrist. “I once knew someone who could tell the future by looking at your palm. If only the captain had listened to her.”
AJ looked as if she was going to respond, but when she glanced up at him, her words vanished. She pulled her hand back, rubbing her palm where Finn had touched it, and she smiled, encouraging him to continue.
“When the captain returned home, he discovered he had been duped. All his earthly possessions had been spirited away, and he was wanted by the law, charged with conspiracy. The papers and the date of transfer reflected the captain’s ownership, making him responsible for the transport of illegal goods. He was told his family had been taken and placed under arrest pending his return. A viscount, in charge of the matter, presented a deal to the captain. If he would entertain another voyage, all would be forgiven and his family restored. The passage being asked of him would not be easy and, in itself, seemed fantastical. Yet the captain could see no other way out for his family and agreed to the impossible journey.”