A Touch of Gold mpm-2

by Joyce Lavene

  “Oh.” I guess that answered my question.

  “You thought Shayla and I—?”

  “Yeah. Kind of. But that would be okay if that’s how it worked out.”

  He put his arms around me. “That’s a lukewarm attitude. You wouldn’t even put up a fight?”

  I didn’t get to answer because he kissed me and I forgot what I was going to say. It didn’t matter anyway. I’d heard what I needed to hear.

  “What’s your agenda for today?” he asked, his forehead against mine. “I already boarded up my windows, and the glass won’t be here to replace them until Monday.”

  I explained about Agnes. “I can’t believe I haven’t gone to see her.”

  “I’m sure I don’t understand all the ins and outs of this kind of thing. But I have a feeling being almost blown up yourself probably gets you off the hook. I’m sure trying to stay sane despite being able to see the minute details about everything you touch might qualify you for an exemption too.”

  “Thanks. I still feel guilty, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’m going to make sure the shop is in one piece, then I have to go and buy some food to take to Agnes.”

  “Count me in on the plan. I can learn from someone who knows Duck society from the inside out as well as proper Duck etiquette.”

  “All right.” I had to smile. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

  Missing Pieces was in good shape. The shop had managed to escape any problems—this time. I’d had my share of broken windows, leaky roofs and flooding. It was part of life on the Outer Banks.

  Kevin looked around at all the pieces in my shop, picking things up and putting them down as he inspected them, just like any other shopper. I was watching him (pretending to work) when the bell on the door rang and Mrs. Euly Stanley came in.

  The large green poncho and hood she wore made her look even smaller than her five-foot-nothing fragile frame. Her boots seemed to reach all the way up to her waist. She pushed back her hood, revealing a wealth of curly gray hair. “Dae! There you are! I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you today. You have to see what I found in my attic.”

  Kevin joined us at the front of the store, and we went through the pleasantries of introduction and inquiring about each other’s state of well-being.

  “What did you find, Mrs. Stanley?” I asked when it was over.

  “Just look!” She withdrew a lovely antique gold bracelet from the pocket of her poncho. “It belonged to my great-great grandmother. There’s a matching necklace somewhere. I wanted to show it to my granddaughter, Chrissie. Can you help me find it?”

  “Of course! Let’s sit down over here and take a look.” I glanced at Kevin and smiled. He seemed to understand and drew up a chair close to the sofa. Mrs. Stanley took off her wet poncho and sat beside me, waiting expectantly.

  I took her hands in mine. They were cool and slightly damp. She closed her eyes and, I could imagine, thought about her ancestor’s missing necklace.

  At first I couldn’t see anything—only a dark, confused muddle of colors and shapes. That was normal for most people. There were only a few who had some kind of clarity when I looked for something they’d lost.

  A shape began to form out of the swirling colors. There was something there—dull gold chain leading to a—“It’s a locket!” I exclaimed. “A gold locket with a picture inside.”

  “Yes! That’s it!” Mrs. Stanley said. “My great-great grandmother. That’s it, Dae! Where is it?”

  “It’s in the pocket of a skirt—calf length, herringbone tweed. It’s hanging in a tall chest filled with other clothes and a lot of hats.”

  The necklace formed clearly in my mind. I could see the portrait inside of it and the image broke my concentration. “Mrs. Stanley—your great-great grandmother was Theodosia Burr. This is the link Max looked for all of his life. He knew it was here and he was right.”

  “What are you saying, Dae? My great-great grandmother’s name was Mary.”

  “Max hypothesized that Theo took on a new persona when she found herself shipwrecked here. Or maybe she couldn’t remember who she was. We might never know. But I have a miniature portrait that looks just like this—maybe she was a few years older. The face is unmistakable.”

  “Are you sure? No one in my family has ever mentioned anything about it. Was it possible they didn’t know?”

  “Maybe there could be some mention of it in your family history. All of your relatives kept such good records. Remember when we found the mention of the first church built in Duck through your relative’s Bible?”

  Her brows knit together above intelligent brown eyes. “I think there’s a diary. I’ll have to check with my mother. To think we could be related to Theodosia Burr Alston! It would be wonderful! Those ladies in the Duck Historical Society would be green! But I thought Theodosia died at sea—killed by pirates.”

  “If you could find that diary and we could compare my picture to the one in the locket, we might know for sure.”

  “You’re right of course! I’ll get everyone in the family together, and we’ll see what we can find. This is so exciting! How I wish Max were here to tell us all what to do. I miss him so.”

  I took a deep breath. “Could I hold the bracelet, Mrs. Stanley? Just for a moment.”

  “Of course!” She took it out of her pocket again.

  “Dae?” Kevin caught my attention.

  “It’s fine,” I answered. “You’re here to catch me, right?”

  He nodded. “I’m here.”

  Mrs. Stanley smiled. “How very nice for you, Dae. You have a new beau.” She put out her hand, and I took the bracelet from her.

  Warmth. Laughter. A sparkling emotion that was love as she watched him put it on her wrist. He kissed her hand as he finished, and she threaded her fingers through his dark hair.

  I couldn’t see her face, but I knew—I knew that it was Theodosia. I could feel it. There was no doubt that this bracelet and the matching locket belonged to her.

  “It was handmade by a traveling jeweler who created one-of-a-kind treasures. He gave it to her for her birthday. She was his wife. They loved each other so deeply.” I sighed over the tender emotion without realizing it.

  “My goodness.” Mrs. Stanley said. “All of that from the bracelet? Your gift is growing, Dae!”

  Mrs. Stanley put on her poncho and promised to let me know if any progress was made toward finding the missing locket and diary. She smiled at Kevin and shook his hand before leaving the shop.

  “That was a risk,” Kevin warned when she was gone. “It could’ve involved her death or some other calamity hidden in the emotions of the bracelet.”

  “It could’ve,” I agreed. “But it didn’t. It was one of the loveliest feelings I’ve ever felt. They were so in love.”

  “I think you’re missing the point. You knew what you needed to know from the locket. Why touch the bracelet?”

  “I thought there might be something else and there was. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry so much. I can handle this.”

  “It’s too new for you to know what you can handle.”

  I smiled at him and kissed his cheek, still feeling the afterglow of the romantic emotions between Theodosia and her Banker husband. “You need to lighten up. Everything is fine. It’s better than fine. It’s wonderful.”

  As if to disprove my words, Kevin’s pager went off just as August Grandin burst into the shop. “You have to come and see this! Rafe Masterson has struck again!”

  Chapter 12

  “That’s me.” Kevin kissed me quickly before he ran out of the shop. August and I were right behind him. I barely remembered to lock up.

  Thick black clouds of smoke filled the sky. It was hard to tell exactly where it was coming from—but following all the emergency vehicles was a good bet.

  Already a crowd had gathered at the pink clapboard house on one of the side streets away from Duck Road. Flamingos and plastic dwarfs were trampled as booted feet dragged heavy hoses to put ou
t the fire.

  A voice called out what I was thinking. “That’s Max Caudle’s house! Where’s Agnes?”

  It was too much like the museum. The smell of smoke and the urgent sense of panic caused a choking sensation in my throat. How could this be happening again so soon? None of us were ready for another disaster.

  “It’s the pirate curse,” Billy Rogers said, making the sign of the cross on his chest. “Rafe has come back again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Mark Samson, who owned the Rib Shack, looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “That old thing doesn’t cause real-life fires.”

  “Agnes may still be trapped inside,” another voice added to the sense of hysteria.

  A dog started barking—high-pitched yapping—as Max and Agnes’s apricot-colored poodle ran through the yard toward the crowd. Chief Michaels, Tim Mabry and some of the other Duck police officers arrived and began redirecting traffic, giving the firefighters time and space to do their jobs.

  Gramps was on pumper duty at the big fire truck. I ran to his side, surprised to see him there. “I thought you had an excursion.”

  “My fare didn’t have the stomach for it.”

  “Did anyone look inside yet to see if Agnes is in there?”

  He glanced around, checking the pressure on the hoses. “I don’t know, Dae. Let me ask Cailey. She’s up near the house somewhere.”

  Cailey had been in the house but hadn’t seen Agnes. She’d opened the door and let the dog out. “I don’t think she’s home,” she told Gramps. “The fire had to be started with an accelerant. It’s burning too hot and too fast.”

  I saw Kevin suiting up alongside several other men from the community. Some of them I’d gone to high school with—some had been my elementary schoolteachers. Luke Helms, new to the area, was putting on the volunteer firefighter’s gear too. It didn’t take long before new residents were enlisted. Already dozens of volunteers had arrived and were in the Caudles’ front yard.

  A window blew out of the top floor, sending shards of glass past the geraniums and the high-peaked black roof. Someone was up there in the opening. Smoke rolled out of the hole where the window had been.

  “Help!” Agnes called out, her voice cracking from the smoke. “Help me, please!”

  People all around me started crying and praying as we watched in horror while Agnes waved her arms and tried to get out of the dormer window. She was coughing fitfully as she finally managed to crawl outside on the roof. She swayed as she stood high above the ground. The crowd called out for her to stay put, help was coming.

  There was only one truck with a ladder long enough to reach her. It was being used as the pumper. Without it, there wouldn’t be enough water to put out the fire. And we all knew there wasn’t enough time to disengage the big hoses and get the ladder up to her.

  My eyes and throat were burning, but I saw two men in firefighter’s gear run toward the house with a long ladder. I didn’t know who they were or where they’d found the ladder. The crowd went silent as we watched them try to reach Agnes in time.

  Seconds ticked by like hours. Agnes lost her balance and fell to her knees. The angle of the roof was too steep for her to regain her footing. She was toppling forward even as the two brave souls were coming for her.

  I could hardly watch. Would they be there in time or would we face a double tragedy? My hands were clenched in tight fists—impotent rage running through me as all the rest of us could do was watch and pray.

  The first man reached the roof in time to keep Agnes from falling. She grasped at him like a drowning swimmer. The second man was right behind him. Everyone caught their breath as Agnes’s savior lost his footing trying to help her. Luckily, the next man stopped them both from rolling off the roof.

  When it seemed as though they would all be safe, a part of the roof collapsed right behind them. Hot flames shot up through the hole fed by the new supply of oxygen. It roared—as angry as any pirate ghost, threatening to take their lives.

  I found myself praying that neither of the men up there was Kevin. But who would I wish this fate on? I knew every man and woman in the fire department. I knew most of their families and their friends. I felt guilty wishing only for Kevin’s safety. Please don’t let anything happen to any of them.

  Two more firemen moved in with one of the big hoses. They began pushing the fire back into the hole in the roof. The two with Agnes crawled toward the ladder that meant life and safety if they could reach it. A group from the crowd—no training or equipment—ran to hold the base of the ladder and offer whatever assistance they could.

  The black smoke almost prevented me from seeing one man guide Agnes’s feet to the ladder while the other held her hands and helped her start down. The water that was keeping the fire away from them also made the ladder slippery. Several times on that long journey to the ground they almost fell. Finally, all three were on the flattened green grass.

  As the paramedics rushed up, I joined them. I wasn’t sure who the two firefighters were—at least they were both safe. Agnes was a dear, old friend. The other two were our new heroes. I felt sure they both had some kind of special town award coming to them when this was over.

  The heat from the house was unbearable. Two or three people helped each of the firefighters get away from it. I helped a few others get Agnes out of the area. The paramedics followed along, trying to check Agnes for injuries even as we were running toward the street.

  Agnes was crying hysterically. She was covered in black soot—no way to know if she was burned or not. I held her hand while the paramedics tried to put an oxygen mask over her face. She kept pushing it aside even though she was coughing. I tried to calm her down, and she reached out to grab me with both arms.

  “I don’t want any of it, Dae! It killed Max and almost killed me. It destroyed our home—our lives. Take it! It’s cursed!”

  Before I could ask what she meant, she pressed something into my hand. It was black from the soot it had accumulated in the fire—but there was no doubt what it was.

  Max was desperate. He didn’t know what else to do. He opened the box again and looked at its contents. There was more than enough for Agnes’s surgery. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut.

  Agnes mercifully lost consciousness. The paramedics put her on a stretcher and moved her to the ambulance.

  I looked at the black soot from her touch. I was covered in it. I rubbed the coin she’d given me against my shirt until the bright gold beneath it began to gleam. This wasn’t pirate gold. This had been made more recently—in Germany. The man who’d given Max this gold to save Agnes’s life was a much older man, someone I’d never seen before.

  I tucked the gold coin in my pocket, glad that my encounter with it had been mild compared to pirate gold. I looked around in the smoky crowd to locate the two firefighters from the roof. A group of volunteers were helping remove charred gloves and melted boots. As soon as their hoods were removed, I saw that one of them was Luke and the other, Kevin. I’d known it was him even as I hoped it wasn’t.

  I was close enough to hear Kevin joking with the paramedics as they checked him and Luke for injuries. Luke was quiet and somber, but thankfully, they both seemed fine. I couldn’t get any nearer with so many people crowded around for more important reasons than my own—wanting to wail pathetically and throw my arms around Kevin.

  “Looks like Sam’s surfaced,” Chief Michaels said to me. “That fire was arson. I don’t have to be with the fire department to know it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was Sam.”

  “It doesn’t mean it wasn’t either. Somebody did these things, Mayor,” he responded, provoked. “Sam knows about cannons—his cannon destroyed our museum. Now this. He ran. That makes him our prime suspect until we know better.”

  I felt stupid and chastened. Of course he was right. I’d been trying to protect Sam. That may have even colored my vision about him. He might have been running away from the police, not someone who wanted to
kill him. I didn’t know him as well as I knew Max. I was going to have to stop being so protective of people because they seemed like they couldn’t be guilty. Sam had issues with Max. Maybe it got to be too much.

  How that related to the new gold coin in my possession was anyone’s guess. Maybe the two incidents weren’t related. But I knew I owed the chief an apology. “I’m sorry, Chief Michaels. I hate it, but I know you’re right.” It took a lot for me to say that.

  “Your heart’s in the right place,” he responded sympathetically. “You don’t understand the criminal mind. Sometimes good people turn bad.”

  The fire was all but contained. People were starting to move away from the smoldering remains of the pink house Max and Agnes had shared for so many years. They were going home to cherish what they still had and mourn the loss to the community.

  I noticed the TV crew from the mainland had set up near the police perimeter. I walked close, deciding to use them for a change. I told them about our two heroes, and they followed me, armed with cameras and microphones.

  I was the cool, smiling mayor who introduced Luke and Kevin to the media, who loved them at once. They were a perfect image for the six P.M. news that night. Handsome heroes with sooty faces that saved a woman from a terrible death.

  I looked on as the reporters asked their questions, trying to capture the excitement of the moment. Kevin nodded toward me with a question in his eyes, and I winked at him. This was good for Duck despite the way it came about. It was right for people outside the Outer Banks to see our lives—both good and bad.

  Of course, that gave the reporters the run of the restricted area. They took advantage by talking to Cailey and Chief Michaels. Then they were lucky enough to find an old Banker who still believed in the curse of Rafe Masterson. I could imagine their eyes lighting up over that.

  “What was that all about?” Kevin asked when we were alone. Luke had gone to talk with Cailey and Gramps.