by Mary Brady
When she left the bathroom with her bag over her shoulder and her arms full of stuff, he stopped her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
Forgiveness, complete and full of sorrow.
She turned and hurried away.
Dropping everything on the couch except one towel, her hairbrush and the robe she wore, she let herself out into the warm afternoon sun.
Every brush stroke seemed to sooth her. Every minute she sat in the nurturing sunshine healed her a little more. Maybe by the time she got ready to meet these people, she would be strong enough to get through the night. Smile. Chat. Smile. Chat. And drive herself home.
I think I can...
By the time her hair was dry and smooth, Daniel had come out onto the balcony dressed in a robe with a towel draped around his neck. He looked refreshed and that bolstered her strength.
“You can have the bathroom back.”
She hung the dress on the back of the bathroom door and in the relatively dim light of the bathroom she scooped her hair up and realized the upswept comb-over she and Monique had planned didn’t seem right anymore. She just twisted her hair at the back of her head, pinned it and inserted the black crystal-studded hair fork.
She applied more makeup than her usual modest amount because construction work didn’t require much in the makeup category.
With the side zipper of the black dress tugged up into position, the dress molded tightly around her waist. She felt a little uncomfortable with no bra, but the dress did not. The whole intent of the design was to glorify a woman’s natural curves in swaying black chiffon and shining crystal beads that ran in a two-inch scattered row on either side of the modest V of neckline and joined to make a four-inch swathe to the waist. The back of the dress dropped open to her waist.
Monique had talked her into a deep red matte lipstick that, Mia had to admit, looked smashing on her full lips. “It’ll stay on,” Monique had said. “And it says, oh baby, oh baby, there is absolutely nothing ordinary about this woman.”
Mia had been skeptical and she still was.
“Now make a moue,” Monique had said, and when Mia pushed out her lips, “Oh, yes, now it says, oh, honey, you’re not good enough for me. Go away until you’re better-looking, richer and fantastic in bed.”
Hey, Mia thought as she repinned a loose lock of hair and gave it a good spray, maybe there was a good-looking donor just waiting to back a pirate restaurant.
She put on her earrings and necklace and modeled for herself in the mirror. Her emerald-and-gold necklace and earrings from her grandmother weren’t the best fit, but they were pretty and they would have to do. Her phone told her it was six-twenty. She hoped Daniel had everything he needed from the bathroom before she closeted herself in.
With one hand on the sink for balance, she slid on one of the four-inch black patent-leather heels and then the other. Tipping her foot to the side, she admired the cap-heel and open-sided pumps. D’Orsay style according to Monique and to which Mia had responded, “If you say so.” The toes of the shoes had three bands of leather crossed over each other. The band crossing over the top of all of the others had black crystal beads similar to the dress.
Thank goodness for Monique. She had insisted, before the mani-pedi, Mia walk around the house in the shoes. Once she had found her balance last night, things had gotten easier. Now she moved around the bathroom and had her balance after only a few strides.
She was ready.
She loaded the matching purse with essentials and gathered up all her things. She stopped and put down everything but the purse. Daniel might not be her lover anymore, but he was a guy and she wanted to get the full effect when he saw something he had never seen before. Mia Parker in full fancy-dress mode.
She stepped out of the bathroom ready for a taa-daa moment, but Daniel’s bedroom was empty. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. He must be in the office. She perched on one of the blue bar stools that lined the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining area to wait.
A moment later she heard his footsteps approaching. Since the dress would have more impact if she stood, she slid off the stool and put one hand on the counter, standing up “I rule” straight.
He walked out of the office concentrating on the box in his hands. The lines of his tux showed off the killer form of his body without looking overly done. His dark hair was brushed back and slightly wet-looking.
Bruce Wayne sexy and James Bond aloof...and when he was only a few feet from her and looked up, he took one step back and grinned at her, Indiana Jones charming.
He made all the effort worthwhile.
“You look beautiful. Astonishing.”
“And you look good enough to be with me.”
She approached him, touched his chin with the tip of one finger and then sashayed away, presenting the back of the dress.
He coughed and sputtered. “Um, wow.”
She turned back around. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I knew you had a lovely back, but I had no idea how good it would look framed in black.”
“So what do you think?”
“You make that dress the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and—” he touched the corner of her mouth “—I think that lipstick was designed to make men grovel at your feet.”
“I won’t ask you to go that far.”
He held out his hand and led her over to the mirrors behind the dining room table. “I’m not saying your lovely necklace isn’t charming and beautiful, but I wondered if you were interested in borrowing these.”
She took the black velvet jewelry box from him and lifted the lid. Inside were a diamond necklace, a bracelet and a pair of earrings. All matching. All glittering and gorgeous. “Great-Aunt Margaret?”
“Yes, and they don’t get much use from me.”
The three pieces were simple strings of set diamonds. Round, marquis and emerald cut diamonds set in white gold or platinum. Each piece a single strand. The earrings dropped three inches and would almost touch her shoulders.
Mia took her jewelry off and put it on the table. Daniel draped the necklace around her neck and it fell to just above the rise of her breasts as if designed for her. She made herself ignore the effect of his warm fingers on her neck. He fastened the bracelet around her wrist and then glanced up to look into her eyes. She put the earrings in without looking away.
“One last chance. Do you want to face these people?”
“These people who will think Dr. Daniel MacCarey has finally come back out of his shell?”
“They might at that.”
“Come on. We’ll shut them up. Kiss me on the cheek once in a while. Act protective and they won’t be able to talk about poor old Daniel MacCarey any more.”
“I won’t be pretending to be protective. There are always a few in attendance who must have missed out on manners class.”
“So let’s go pluck some dollars for the university out of some bank accounts.”
When they arrived dutifully a few minutes early, the foliage of the botanical gardens was lit with twinkle lights, and the waitstaff was ready to serve. Daniel introduced Mia to Dr. Donovan, making sure his department head knew this was the woman whose project was being put on hold for the pirate dog and pony show.
Daniel’s boss looked the pair of them up and down. “Well, you two certainly have all the bases covered.”
As they strolled away Mia thought she heard a low wolf whistle and leaned into Daniel. “It’s the dress. I’m still just a girl with a hammer and a fistful of nails.”
He leaned down and said intimately in her ear, “You’ve never been just a girl with a hammer and fistful of nails.”
She smiled up at him for his charm and they ventured out into the gathering crowd.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE NOSE OF Mia’s pea-green SUV ate up the road as she sped toward home. When the party broke, she had returned Great-Aunt Margaret’s jewelry to Daniel and drove away from him as he stood in the parking lot looking as bereft as she felt.
Turns out the Owens, the pirate dog and pony show people, loved the hammer and nails description, especially from a woman dressed so “divinely.” It didn’t hurt to have Dr. Daniel MacCarey by her side to get such a response from the people who did not know her at all. The last thing they said they wanted was to get in the way of her “divine” project. She didn’t hold much hope they would push to get the site opened to her, but at least they probably would not block it, either.
The evening had been a smashing success, according to Dr. Donovan, who had found many reasons to spend time with Daniel and her. He gave, however, no more than vague responses to the question of releasing the site. For her part, Mia brought out all her impressive people-handling skills. While giving no offence, she made sure Dr. Donovan knew her plans for the property and the importance of the building project to the town.
“He’s most likely waiting for the results from the lab. He can’t afford to give up a piece of history,” Daniel had told her. “But the Owens pledged another sizable chunk to sponsor more than one project for the anthropology department.”
“And, as much as I hate to say this aloud, I don’t want him to give up any history. It would be a piece of Maine history, after all,” she had said in response and then looked up at Daniel. “I hate both the rock and the hard place.”
As she sped onward, lights from the oncoming cars passed in the darkness of late evening. If the university’s wheels just moved fast enough for her to get the site back by Monday, she might be able to complete the prep work by the following Sunday and pray Mr. Markham forgave her for not being ready for them by “next week” and would tuck her into the schedule for the week after.
Halfway home her phone rang, and she chucked the handbag with the phone in it over her shoulder in case she did something crazy, like answer any calls. A minute later the voice-mail signal played from the backseat. It was too early for Monique to call, too late for her mother, probably too late for anyone to be calling about the Roost, so that left Daniel making sure she was all right—as if. She knew she could not hear the sound of his voice right now.
She hissed out a breath between her teeth. Did she never get a break?
The phone rang again and she was glad it was in the backseat. It saved her from having to chuck it out the window.
By the time she reached Bailey’s Cove the clock on the bank across the road from the museum read ten o’clock and, of course, the last thing she wanted was sleep.
She changed into her mint-green tank top and blue plaid flannel shirt and jeans and headed for Pirate’s Roost.
Tonight she took her aviation-style headphones, good for keeping the music in and the world out. No creaking building. No passing cars. No thinking. Just music.
“Hi, Marcella,” she said when she called the evening dispatcher at police headquarters. “This is Mia Parker. I just wanted to let you all know I’m at Pirate’s Roost for a while. I didn’t want them to worry about the lights being on.”
Marcella said she’d let the squads know and wished her a good night.
Mia clicked on the lights Daniel had brought for the task, and with her headphones offering Jimmy’s lessons learned from Margaritaville, she sat down on the tarp and started piecing together granite chunks.
She did just what the man in the song had done, learned from life’s experience.
Exactly and in great detail, she had truly learned this time just what a broken heart felt like, and not just an inconvenienced heart as with the likes of Rory. She also learned how nonsensical it was to walk willingly, in sloppy armor, into the fray.
Okay, so the no-thinking part was failing already.
She sighed and worked on.
Eventually, frustrated with the puzzle of granite not fitting together, she got up and collected more of the pieces she thought looked promising and added them to the ones on the tarp.
Monique had tried to tell her it would matter if she got her heart broken, but noooo. She had to listen to her own faulty wisdom. She wondered how Monique knew in the first place. What had she missed when she was away from Bailey’s Cove and Monique was still here? What emails had she made light of or glanced over and relegated to her overstuffed read-later file.
Mia was about to put all the pieces of the crypt aside and get more when she looked down at the markings on the collection in front of her. They made an odd sense. She had been trying her best to make a shield, a coat of arms out of the pieces, a pirate flag or symbol. No matter how she put them together, took them apart and put them together, the pieces did not seem to go together. If they did go together, they did not form a recognizable picture.
What was it Daniel had said? Sometimes anthropologists look for what’s there, not for what they expect.
She examined the pattern again with the pieces laid out in the way the stone seemed to fit together, and then she pushed the pieces together in the circle of her hands.
The puzzle made sense.
“Oh, Daniel. It’s a rose,” she said aloud and checked again to make sure she wasn’t making a mistake, making things up in her head as she was so good at it as of late. She was sure she saw what was there. A rose, about eight inches in diameter. It even had leaves and a stem. Colleen Rose Fletcher McClure. Liam Bailey. Rónán Uilliam McClure. How much circumstantial information would tip this thing over the top?
She sat with the shards on the tarp in front of her, holding as many of the pieces together as she could. From what she could tell, they were the lighter side of the stones, from the outside of the column, not the inside. Liam Bailey’s crypt had an image of a rose on the outside.
Now she had enough information to convince the university—to take over the sight forever. They’d pay her some token amount so she could eat in her tent for a few weeks before she shambled off with rags for shoes and a cardboard box for a hat—alone, adrift.
She laughed at her pitiful self to the tune of James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.” She always thought she’d see him, see Daniel, again.
A toe nudged her.
She slipped off her headphones and looked up to see Monique and Lenny standing next to her.
“So you’re sitting in the middle of the night, in a deserted building, telling jokes to yourself, are you?”
Mia picked up the cardboard box she had brought in case she wanted to take some pieces home with her and put the box on her head. “What do you think?”
Lenny looked quizzically at Monique. Her friend put her hand on the arm he had linked with hers. “Not to worry, honey. She is obviously in the middle of one of her woe-is-me scenarios. It will pass, it always does.”
Then she turned to Mia as if Mia would not have heard what she said to Lenny. “It looks lovely, dear. I do think you could use a silk flower or two on it.”
Mia shrugged and took off her “hat.” Her friend could almost always hit her moods on the nose. “How was the movie and dinner?”
“They were the best time I’ve ever had.” She looked up at Lenny who didn’t even need to puff out his heavily muscled chest, but his grin spread across his entire face.
Mia motioned for Lenny to come cross the tarp to where she sat. He hunkered down beside her without hesitation. “Lenny, you made an outstanding choice, picking Monique, and I love you for it.” She pulled him down until she could kiss him on the cheek.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he stayed hunkered down beside her.
“I am.” I think I am. “I am. Now take my dear friend away and be very good to her.”
“Go home, Mia.” He made the words sound like a gentle request rather the command from a
police officer.
Lenny stood and Monique took his arm again.
“I think I will go home,” Mia agreed as she pushed up from the floor and nearly toppled.
They both grabbed for her and she put her hands out. “High heels. My feet are still very annoyed with me for walking around in spikes for three hours. I’m good. I’m good.”
By the time they left, she was sure neither of them believed she was “good.” To their credit, they understood she was best left to herself.
Mia gathered the crucial pieces of the puzzle into the box. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to remove them from the site, but they weren’t going to punish her for keeping the rose safe.
When she saw the taillights of Lenny’s car pull away from the curb, she raised a fist of cheer. “Monique and Lenny together forever.”
She was so happy for her friend she could cry, but she knew if she cried it would be tears for herself.
When she got home and finally put her head on the pillow, she sat right back up again.
She had it.
One more of the puzzle pieces fell into place. Liam Bailey built the column as a hiding place, as a treasure vault. Who would think to look for treasure in a closed-up wall in the middle of a hotel?
The hiding place was very clever. The wall was extra wide with a closet at either end. If no one ever measured the depth of the closets, no one would realize the wall was a few feet longer than the combined length of the closets. The closets themselves were most likely used for table linens, extra chairs and such, making the width of the dividing wall look like a feature and not a cover-up to conceal the vault.
The only mark he put on the vault was the rose in honor of his Colleen “Rose” Fletcher. Charlie’s hammer had shattered the rose before anyone had paid attention to it.
Liam Bailey had unknowingly built his own crypt. Whoever stabbed him must have hefted him up and into the vault. All they had to do then was to seal off the opening, finish the wall and make sure no one had use of the building for a couple years—because they made sure they got the property from the courts—Archibald Fletcher.