Jack kissed her goodbye, his burly mustache tickled. She held on to him, not wanting to let go of his muscular sinewy body.
“Come with me,” Jack said.
Determined to catch the thwarted thief, Grace and Jack followed him aboard the Arizona and San Diego Railway.
“Is this the railway they said couldn’t be built?”
“Yes, I think it would be more accurate to say it shouldn’t have been built. We’re going straight through rock, changing elevations multiple times, and generally defying nature.”
“It’s safe though right?’ Grace asked.
“Yes. Probably as safe as the Titanic.”
“I know I’ve seen him before. I know I’ve seen him with Uncle Charles.”
They went through a tunnel on the Carrizo Gorge, and in the darkness, his lips found hers. She clung to Jack in the darkness of the train speeding through the tunnel. She’d become so aware of his physical presence that the vibrations of the train seemed to course through both of them. And she turned around, and ever so slightly, Jack pulled her closer to him, like a light in the tunnel’s darkness.
And then they were in sunlight again, blazing through the windows as the train climbed a high wooden trestle, and her stomach dropped for a millisecond, and she felt she was on a roller coaster, and she yearned for the next tunnel, to feel Jack against her again, certain that she was exactly where she wanted to be, doing exactly what she wanted to be doing.
They moved forward as the train plunged to darkness again. Jack held her tightly and she felt his heart beating.
When they emerged from the tunnel, he carefully rearranged her dress for her, protectively shielding her from what could be curious glances.
“I’ve never been on a train ride like this before.”
“They never built one like this before.”
“He’s Uncle Charles’ broker. Now I remember. He was selling stock to Uncle Charles when I met him. And promising that we’d be rich as a Vanderbilt, “ Grace said.
“Next stop is Mexico.”
“No time like the present for international travel.”
Grace spied someone moving ahead of them. Jack and Grace moved forward in tandem. The broker looked nervous. He jumped off at the border crossing. Jack leapt on him, put him in a stranglehold and told him to stay put. People stared at them. But no one stopped to ask any questions.
Grace couldn’t resist bopping him on the head with her purse.
“It wasn’t my idea,” he said, sweating through his clothes.
“What wasn’t?”
“The stock your Uncle kept buying. It was a Ponzi Scheme”
“What is a Ponzi Scheme?”
“There was supposed to be a company that manufactured plastic gloves that you couldn’t cut through. So surgeons would never get infected. And the same company was supposed to manufacture masks that filtered out germs. So you’d never catch the flu. But they were just paying the first investors back with the new investors’ money.”
“You mean there never was a stock?”
“There was a manufactured stock. There just wasn’t a manufactured glove. Or a manufactured mask. Or a company.” He admitted.
“And what does that have to do with stealing my purse?”
“Your Uncle Charles figured it out. Everyone else kept grabbing the money. He wanted to visit the factory. And then he threatened to expose me.”
“Why kill the telegraph operator? I’ll find out if my Uncle sent another telegraph.” Grace bluffed.
“He tried to tell you everything.”
The train whistle blew. Jack marched onto the train with the broker in tow.
“I’ll hand you over to the Sheriff as soon as we get back to San Diego. Don’t move from this seat.”
No one at the station even looked closely at them.
“They’ve seen it all at the Mexican border.” Jack explained.
When they disembarked in San Diego, Jack turned him over to the Sheriff.
“I’ll get a buddy of mine to fly me back to La Jolla,” he said.
“Poor Tatania. She must think we deserted her.”
“No, she trusts me to come back for her. You should too. Go back to Coronado and wait for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grace hadn’t counted on craving anyone the way she craved Jack. He seemed as necessary to her life as water for drinking. She felt she’d die of thirst for him.
If she let him draw nearer, she risked loss again. And she’d had enough of that in her short life. If she longed to remain in Coronado because it represented happiness to her, did Jack long for the nomadic life of flying around the country because that represented happiness to him? He’d spoken excitedly about Charles Lindbergh’s plan to fly all the way to Paris.
The rain began outside. Grace thought of her collection of California Sunshine postcards. They never showed storms like the one raging outside now. Grace prayed silently for Jack and Tatania’s safe return.
Coronado, an island where dreams never died, where all seemed possible, couldn’t mean death. Jack had to return safely. She remembered champagne with Jack and kissing him in his cottage. He had to be alive. He was too strong a force of nature to die.
She left for church and saw a man rolling heavy boxes on a dolly inside.
He looked curiously at Grace.
“Miss, excuse me. I’m just delivering some altar wine.”
Grace stood, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but a little hooch sounds great right now.”
“We’re legal. No hooch. Altar wine. It’s the only thing that’s kept my family winery going through this Prohibition. We have the contracts for Episcopal and Catholic Altar wine. God Bless the Southern California Archdiocese.”
“God Bless your family winery.”
“Are you okay?”
Grace realized that her face must be tear stained. “I think so.”
“Terrible storm. “
She nodded in agreement.
Grace prayed for Jack’s return, remembering the proverb her Mother told her at night, during her childhood, so long ago, “If God is with us, who can be against us?”
He brought in a corkscrew and glasses. He handed her a glass of wine. He looked ruggedly handsome but didn’t even intrigue her, her heart beat only for Jack now. Somewhere, in the storm, his heart was beating too. She had to keep believing he was alive. The alternative, that he could be dead, and her heart could still beat, was unfathomable.
“Are you a movie star?”
“No.”
“You’ve been in the movies though, right? I’m sure I’ve seen you.”
“Yes. I’ve been in the movie theater. And my boyfriend, Jack, was going to take me to see Clara Bow in Mantrap.” She started to cry.
“You have a movie star look. I thought you’d appeared in a movie.”
Grace got up to leave. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lightning flashed and Grace saw a banner out in the water. Was Jack’s plane in the water? She thought she heard Tatania’s piercing wail.
She ran along the beach, ignoring the stares of Coronado Tent City’s residents huddled within their cottages. She had to get to Jack and his plane. She slipped out of her skirt, it slowed her down, but she kept swimming, the lightening illuminating the ocean for her.
She swam out unfettered by the lack of swimsuit, the water propelling her forward, she had to get Jack’s plane. She reached the banner. It was floating by itself. It wasn’t his banner. It didn’t say anything on it. She couldn’t see the plane or any part of it. More importantly, she couldn’t see Jack.
She cried out for Jack, wanting to see him once again, wanting to speak the words that had always remained unspoken.
Saltwater filled her mouth, she spat it out, and treaded water. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to return to shore. Jack had to be out here somewhere. She remembered him saving the pony.
She grew tired. She le
t the water carry her. She didn’t feel like fighting her way back, she began to shiver and lost her sense of direction.
“Jack” she called again.
She thought she saw someone in the water. Someone swimming towards her.
Hallucination. Everything had been so strange for so long. And then she knew, as surely as she knew the sun would rise again tomorrow, that she would find him. She swam back to the shore surging with an unexpected strength.
She ran along the beach, ignoring the stares of Coronado Tent City’s patrons and then the Hotel del Coronado’s guests ensconced in its comfortable lobby. And then she was still coughing up water, and back in her room, when a chill went through her. Kent stood over her, holding a gun in his hand.
“I make a lot of money on commissions. I send guests to the brokers that sell imaginary stocks. Your Uncle couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And you and your moron boyfriend got a little too curious. Curiosity killed the cat,” he said.
Grace recognized the voice that woke her up at night. With permission to deliver the Coronado Tent City News to Hotel del Coronado guests, no one would have questioned his presence.
St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Please come down. Someone is missing and must be found. Grace prayed silently. And for the first time, she felt someone else’s pain instead of her own. Jack absolutely could not feel abandoned. She knew he’d hate to learn she died like this. Greater than her fear of losing him, was her fear that Kent could kill her, and devastate Jack. And with the prayer, a calm settled over her. Jack would come and defeat Kent.
“Do you know why I really hate you and Jack?” Kent asked.
Grace didn’t answer.
“Because you both look so happy.” When he spoke, the words sounded like projectile vomiting.
She felt pity for the pathetic creature. Extremely physically unattractive, it probably explained a lot about him. His exterior mirrored his interior. Ugly at his core and manifesting it with aberrant behavior.
Uncle Charles planned to expose Kent and lost his own life. Grace felt the bonds of family that linked past, present and future. She felt proud of her Uncle. Like her parents, she wished he’d been in her life longer, but she wouldn’t have traded them for anyone else. Justice would prevail. Jack had convinced her of that. There was no substitute for duty, honor and country.
Tatania appeared and leapt on Kent’s face, clawing him. Kent teetered backwards, falling out the window.
Grace picked up Tatania and hugged her. The cat purred, reassuring Grace.
“What was that thud?” Jack asked outside the door.
Grace ran to open the door.
“Tatania jumped on Kent. He had a gun. He’s been stalking and harassing me, Jack. When Tatania sunk her claws into his face, he fell backwards out the window.
“He was garbage,” Jack said.
“You brought Tatania back just in time. She saved my life.”
“I didn’t bring her back. I looked all over La Jolla for her. She wasn’t in the plane.” Jack said.
“Then how did she get in here?” Grace looked at the open window.
Tatania reached up and put a paw on Grace’s forehead.
“I’ve never told another human this. Sometimes, I think Tatania can fly. She’s magical.”
“Jack, you must have brought her back in the plane,” Grace said.
“No. She magically appears and disappears in ways known only to her.”
Tatania looked from Grace to Jack and blinked twice.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack and Grace tumbled on the four poster bed of the Hotel del Coronado’s bridal chamber room. Rose petals lay across the sheets. Grace reveled in the scent.
“You’re a good detective, Grace. You caught the perp.”
“Not the way I planned.”
“And I asked Pinkerton to hire you.”
“Bees Knees. Thank you, Jack.”
“And Pinkerton said it doesn’t hire Dolls.”
Grace looked down.
“So I quit. Hell, you’re better than half those guys. We’ll open our own agency in Coronado.”
“Wentworth and Brewster?” She asked.
“No. You can dominate in bed. I’ll dominate everywhere else. Brewster and Wentworth,” he said.
“Wentworth and Brewster. Side by side.” Grace insisted.
“You might talk me into it.” He conceded.
“Don’t we have to be married to be in this room? Isn’t this the famous Hotel del Coronado’s bridal chamber room?” Grace asked.
“We can make our own rules. And you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“I’m sorry. I have to be alone. You know that, Jack.”
“What if being with me could feel like being alone? At least some of the time?”
“How is that possible?”
“I’ll show you. Trust me. This could be our Coronado Love Nest. CLN.”
Grace felt safe. Tatania batted a rose petal around on the bed.
“She saved my life,” Grace said, reaching to pet Tatania.
“I saved her life,” Jack said. “The three of us are bound together.”
And as the sun set on the island they loved, Grace knew that in their own dialogue between head and heart, the heart won.
Emeralds, Diamonds and Amethysts
Chapter One
“You will be the most beautiful woman at the party.” Jack whispered in her ear.
Grace Wentworth looked at their reflections in the full length oak mirror. She wore a black beaded dress with matching headband and wrist purse. Jack’s hands encircled her waist.
He had a ready smile that belied his years in the Great War’s trenches. He stood behind her, six feet two inches to her five foot four, dark hair, tanned, and with green eyes you’d expect to see on a magnificent tomcat.
“Any regrets?” She asked.
“No, I’m confident you still respect me.”
“I meant about quitting your job at the Pinkerton Detective Agency,” she said. She turned around and looked at the tousled sheets.
“Never. We’re brilliant detectives.”
“If only we had a case,” Grace said.
Jack’s green eyes sparkled. The same shade as her own, it always gave her the feeling she’d known him forever when their eyes met. Through time, as if being with him had been ordained centuries ago.
“We’ll talk to the idle rich,” Grace said.
“The only ones who can take everything and turn it into nothing,” Jack said.
“It’s such a lovely event to benefit the Lishner Sanitorium. Look, here’s an ad for it in the Coronado Tent City News.” Grace read to Jack from the newspaper: “The Lischner Sanatorium for Children — homelike establishment with exclusive features for the care of the ailing, the nervous or the convalescent child. It also affords ideal accommodations for children whose parents may be in need of relief from care of strain.” She threw down the paper.
“Tatania hasn’t been eating.” Grace thought of the beautiful white cat and she appeared immediately, leaping effortlessly through the window. A beautiful white Persian, with a fluffy tail she displayed to advantage, she had a beguiling way about her coupled with a fierce loyalty to Jack.
Jack rescued her from drowning when she was a kitten. A breeder tried to drown Tatania in the ocean because she thought the deafness marred her Persian pedigree bloodline.
“It was the closest I’ve ever come to punching a woman,” Jack explained, “I haven’t seen her eating lately either. She hasn’t lost weight. Odd,” Jack noted, as the glorious cat wound her way through his legs.
Grace pulled the ostrich feather out of her headband and offered it to Tatania. The cat grabbed it with one paw, batting it around, like a proud huntress, claiming her prey.
“Lets stop at Bentley’s and get another ostrich feather.”
“She seems pretty happy with this one,” Jack said. They watched Tatania playfully leaping on it.
“I meant for me,” Gra
ce said.
Chapter Two
Bentley’s Ostrich Farm had recently begun dying their ostrich feathers. Grace could choose among red, green, white, violet, black and blue. She picked another black one.
An ostrich approached Grace. She liked the bird’s curious nature. And understood the inclination to hide her head in the sand sometimes too. She admired the bird.
“Maybe she like my feathers.”
“Maybe she wants her own back,” Jack said.
Grace winced. She had a vision of someone yanking her hair out.
She laid the ostrich feather at the feet of the bird.
The bird sniffed it disdainfully.
“Grace, would you want another woman’s hair?
“No. I have great hair.”
“She doesn’t want another bird’s feathers. She thinks her own are great. Pick it up. Feathers grow back.”
“Do humans treat animals right? I mean, we take their adornments from them and ask them to amuse us—”
“— We’re probably amusing them too.”
“I feel guilty because I haven’t been riding General,” Grace said.
“In the Army, it would be the other way around.”
“I know. I named my horse General because he’s commanding.” Grace smiled at the thought of her dark horse.
“Of course. I belong on a white horse,” Jack said.
“I’ll never part with him.”
“He’s a thoroughbred. You wouldn’t sell him? Even to buy mink coats?” Jack teased her.
“Only a mink needs a mink coat.” Grace said, smiling at him.
“Even to live in the Spreckels Mansion?”
“Oh taunt me.”
The Spreckels Mansion, where they’d be attending the party, was Grace’s dream home. John Spreckels built it for his wife, Lillie, when they sailed to San Diego, survivors of the San Francisco Earthquake of 06, sustained only by cold cucumber soup, crackers, and champagne. His wife insisted that her next home would be built not with mere wood but resolute stone.
“Can I buy you a mansion or something?” Jack asked.
“Jack, most men just offer to buy women a drink.
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