Charmed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 6 Read online

  A pool of rich, soft blue velvet was revealed as Belle took the cask apart, and on it rested a gorgeous strand of pearls. Beside Belle, Caroline had lifted her hand to her mouth, as apparently transported as the rest of the group. “It’s beautiful!”

  “Valuable too,” Bobo piped up, playing his usual role as practical foil to Belle’s more breathless explanations. “Got it appraised and there was no question—it was a necklace fit for nobility. No way to tell how long it’d been on the island, but easily over a hundred years.”

  “At least a hundred years,” Belle said enthusiastically. “Would you like to put them on, dear?”

  The entire room went rigid with electricity, and Simon tensed as well. Caroline could have no idea the import of that offer from Belle, and out of sheer panic that she might do something that he’d never be able to undo, he cleared his throat.

  “Simon!” His grandmother’s face brightened further as she glanced up, and Bobo also swung around with a wide smile.

  “You’re just in time!” he chortled, and a sea of beaming faces greeted Simon—as well as Caroline’s, which was flushed a deep scarlet as she straightened away from the case.

  “I’m so glad,” he said, and his own voice had taken on a resonance to it that he usually only reserved for enormous lecture halls and sleepy-eyed students, rousing them out of their torpor to at least remember some of the history and science he was trying to impress into their minds. His words seemed to cut through the room almost too sharply, bouncing off the walls, and what came out of his mouth next was the last thing he intended. The worst thing he could say, in fact, but he was carried along on an emotion that brooked no denial. And, once those words were spoken, he couldn’t retract them.

  “The Island Royalty collection has waited a lifetime for this day,” he rumbled, nodding deferentially first to Caroline, then to his grandparents. “And I’m delighted that, after all these years, you’ve finally made the acquaintance of the Countess Caroline Andromeda Marie Saleri, visiting us all the way from Garronia.”

  Chapter Nine

  Stiffening with the sudden weight of Simon’s pronouncement, Caroline’s gaze darted from him to the old woman and her husband, and finally to the assembled sea of faces, all of them seeming far too delighted by Simon’s words.

  Granted, it was America. She knew that the idea of royalty played extremely well here, in pop culture appreciation if not as a preferred governmental process. Further, she was standing in the middle of an Island Royalty exhibit, clearly assembled with care by the octogenarian couple in front of her.

  But she’d deliberately not given her full honorific title when she’d first met the Wetheringtons, because it seemed so unduly dramatic. And now, with Simon recounting it so ponderously—and how had he discovered her full name?—she knew she’d made the right choice in her discretion. What had gotten into Simon that he didn’t realize that? Clearly, she didn’t understand the man at all.

  The damage was done, however, and she smiled determinedly at the Wetheringtons. “I do apologize for not giving you my full title before. It seemed a bit much for a tour of the museum.”

  To her surprise, Mrs. Wetherington leaned forward and patted her hand, almost conspiratorially. “Think nothing of it, dear,” she said. “We all knew you were the countess, anyway.”

  “You—what?”

  “Let’s move on to the next exhibit, shall we?” It took another twenty minutes’ worth of stories for them to get to the case that Caroline had identified immediately upon entering the room, based on Edeena’s description, but had impatiently waited to reach in the Wetheringtons’ own time. Simon’s grandparents were sweet, and exceptionally conscientious, and she knew they didn’t get many visitors. But more to the point, she needed to understand how the Saleri jewels fit in with the rest of the collection—based on their discussion of it, she could then determine how open they’d be to her whisking the jewels away.

  “And here we are, the pride of the Island Royalty collection,” Mrs. Wetherington said at length, and with a sinking heart, Caroline allowed herself to be led across the room to the sparkling case. “Bobo?”

  With great officiousness, Mr. Wetherington leaned over and plucked the square glass covering off the base of blue velvet, allowing her to view the jewels without any barrier.

  At a moment’s glance she could tell that they were a collection of semi-precious pink garnets, certainly worth no more than what Edeena had indicated. Caroline had brought her checkbook with her, but from the look on Belle’s face there was no way money would be a sufficient recompense for this scatter of jewels.

  “In the late-1930s, when I was a mere girl, the Contos family of Sea Haven island, royalty from the country of Garronia as you well know, dear, donated this collection of jewelry to our little museum. It caused quite a stir—but not because of the relative value of the jewels.”

  That arrested Caroline on several points. She tackled the most alarming issue first. “A stir?”

  “Oh, my, yes. Understand, the United States was in the throes of the Great Depression, and times were very hard. The museum was a necessary component of the Pinnacle House’s finances, for all that it was very small and not highly advertised. Well, with the addition of this new contribution—and the royal connection—Pearl Island enjoyed a bit of a renaissance, you might say. For all that the jewelry was fairly simple in design, it became one of the museum’s most popular features.”

  “And yet, you know it’s not highly valuable.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that!” Mrs. Wetherington said hurriedly, as if she was afraid Caroline had taken some insult. “My parents were most excited to take on the housing of the jewels at Pinnacle House, and we all fully pledged to remain vigilant as their ward until such time as they were reclaimed.”

  “Ah,” Caroline said, but her mind was whirling. If the Wetheringtons felt that they were only the temporary custodians of the jewels, maybe they wouldn’t mind returning them to her after all. “And to whom did they make this pledge?”

  “Helena Contos herself, matriarch of the family,” Mrs. Wetherington said, her voice triumphant. “She was most insistent that we take on the donation for the betterment of the Pinnacle House.”

  “But she asked you specifically to wait until—”

  The windows of the room suddenly shuddered, and Caroline broke off in surprise, her gaze darting to the glass. She realized for the first time that the trees outside were bowing down almost in deference, their branches waving wildly. “What on earth?”

  “Looks like the storm will hit us after all,” one of the men mused from the center of the group, younger than most of the others. “’Bout time we had some action here.”

  “Hush it, Jack. Storm action is the last thing we need,” another woman scolded, hitting the first man with a smart rap to his forearm. “Besides, the weather forecast gave us only a thirty percent chance of being in the pathway of the storm. That was simply a wind gust.”

  Simon interjected quickly, as if he was looking for a reason to break up the party. “Regardless, we don’t want to be reckless if a storm is brewing,” he said, the faint note of urgency in his voice now setting the group to shuffling. A few more of the senior citizens now peered toward the windows, small frowns of concerns blossoming on their faces. “We should wrap up the tour and allow Countess Saleri to conclude her business.”

  “Business?” Mrs. Wetherington said blankly, and once again, Caroline cursed Simon for his word choice. She’d never actually gotten around to explaining to the Wetheringtons the primary purpose of her visit, preferring instead to let them believe she was solely interested in a tour.

  “What business would that be, dear?” Mrs. Wetherington asked now, turning to Caroline expectantly.

  “Just an idea I had for a possible donation. It’s nothing we need to discuss now,” Caroline said, her last words louder over another shudder of the window. A moment later, a loud wail sounded, tearing through the room like the blast of doom. S
he started at the sound, confused, but the crowd of seniors between them erupted like a flock of geese.

  “The ferry!” the closest man to her blurted, and he sounded genuinely alarmed. “They said it would be hours yet before we’d be summoned.”

  “What a bunch of weenies,” muttered another man.

  The next cry was more plaintive. “I haven’t seen the weather—have you seen the weather? Who has the weather on their phone?”

  “That’s the hour warning. You know how long it usually takes to get taxi service up here. I can’t run the whole way, I’ll have a heart attack!”

  Caroline blinked, genuinely taken aback by the rising tide of fear in the group, but Simon waded into the room’s center, his voice lifting over their high-pitched complaints. “We’ve got the pick-up truck in the garage,” he said loudly. “We’ll get you all down there in two loads—maybe one if we’re lucky, assuming you all like each other.”

  Laughter rippled through the room, and beside Caroline, Mrs. Wetherington lifted her hands in a gesture of dismissal. “We should all stop being so ridiculous,” she complained. “Storms pass by Pearl Island all the time.”

  “Belle,” Simon said, and the two exchanged a meaningful and brief stare.

  “Oh, all right,” she grumbled. “But I declare, this is exactly why you should never get old, dear.” She directing these last words to Caroline. “Everyone around you instantly assumes you can’t cross the street without supervision, let alone ride out a rain shower—” and here she raised her voice again. “In a house that’s stood for more than a hundred and fifty years.”

  Despite herself, Caroline giggled as she linked her arm into Mrs. Wetherington’s and angled her toward the door. The woman walked briskly, but there was no denying the slenderness of her frame. She wasn’t frail, but it would only take one bad fall to slow her down far more than a simple afternoon’s inconvenience.

  Simon threw Caroline a grateful look, and she smiled back at him. Once again, the air seemed to sizzle, almost electric between them.

  Then a sudden burst of thunder quaked, and the moment was broken. It was simply the storm, she thought, putting a charge into the air. She bent to the task of helping Mrs. Wetherington and her friends out of the house, all other thoughts fleeing from her mind.

  Simon counted heads three times before he finally got into the truck, surprised to see Belle in the front instead of Caroline. “Where—”

  “She asked how far off the storm was, and I told her there wasn’t going to be a storm, and I should know, having lived here my whole life,” Belle said firmly, still sending him dark looks. “So she said she’d make her own way down.”

  “Belle, you know very well that this wind means at least a small storm is going to come through.”

  “Small, being the operative word,” his grandmother protested, still clearly put out. “You could have let us at least leave with dignity, Simon. We wait all this time for the countess to come to our door and no sooner does she show up than you herd us all off the island like ducks. It’s embarrassing!”

  “It’s the deal, Belle.” Simon shook his head as his grandmother pressed her lips together. “Besides, she said she had more business to discuss. She’ll probably call on you at the center, now that she’s seen the museum, and you can introduce her to the rest of your friends.”

  “Oh!” As he’d suspected, Belle instantly warmed to that idea, though from what he could tell, more than half the senior citizen center was currently riding in the back of his truck. The rest were being led by Jack Graham, a fast friend of his grandparents despite the fact that he was fifteen years their junior. This spryer group had already started the walk down to the ferry, promising to accept a ride from him on his return if he managed to unload his first delivery of passengers before the walkers reached the ferry on their own two feet—three feet, if you included Jack’s cane.

  Caroline must be with that group, Simon thought. She’d been sweet and solicitous in helping the less mobile of the seniors use the ramp he’d purchased for emergency transport, and though this certainly wasn’t an emergency, it did get most of them into the truck quickly and safely. Now that the wind had ratcheted up again, they were clutching each other like teenagers on a hay ride, and he shook his head ruefully.

  “Of all the days for a rain shower,” sniffed Belle again. “You’d think the island was thwarting us out of spite.”

  “You’ll see her again soon, I’m sure of it.” Simon eased the vehicle down the long road, quickly pulling up beside the knot of fierce, white-haired walkers. He scanned the group quickly, and all the seniors were accounted for—but Caroline wasn’t with them. He didn’t say anything about it, though. If Belle had convinced her that the storm was no big deal, she could have gone to explore the beach beyond the house. Alternatively, she could have trotted on ahead to ensure there would be enough room in the ferry, or to grab herself a coffee. She wasn’t his concern right now.

  Nevertheless, he found himself searching the marina as he pulled in with his load, as the first spatter of rain clattered down on the group. With the help of the ferry staff, he got his grandparents and the others into the shelter, and the ferry itself was boiling toward the island, ready to take everyone back to Sea Haven. There a bus from the senior citizen’s center would be waiting.

  As they all gathered under the carport, the remainder of the group trooped up—but there was no Caroline. It only took a few more minutes for the ferry to dock and the outliers to load. Simon caught the attention of the captain as he watched the guests move up the narrow gang plank.

  “Last boat of the day?” he asked, and the man shot him a quick glance, then winked.

  “Yes, as far as these folks are concerned,” he said, nodding at the white-haired passengers with a wry smile. “Wind just took a turn, so we’ll definitely get hit, but it’ll be an up and down storm, here and gone again by sunset, from all indications. We’ll telephone Hilda, make sure there aren’t any stragglers. If there are, we’ll send a boat.” He studied Simon with mock sternness. “Don’t let it get around.”

  “And you don’t tell my grandparents,” Simon retorted. The man’s smile grew more affectionate.

  “Your secret is safe,” he chuckled, patting Simon on the shoulder. “We’ll get them home safety.”

  Simon stayed at the marina until the boat pulled away, then wheeled back toward the truck. He reached it and slung himself inside, throwing it into gear then pulling out onto the road. The rain was coming down more quickly now, but Caroline was still missing. Had she decided to ride the storm out at the coffee shop? It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Despite what the ferry captain had said, if the storm got worse…

  Simon frowned. There were no overnight housing options on the island, except for, of course, Pinnacle House. And he’d made it abundantly clear they weren’t accepting guests, nor had she given any indication that she wanted to stay there. But still, if she did remain on the island, somehow missed the last ferry to Sea Haven, he at the least could take her over himself, or offer her a room for the night.

  He tightened his hands on the wheel, then cut it hard to the right, pulling alongside the curb in front of the coffee shop. Caroline wasn’t inside, though a number of others were, their noses against their phones tracking the storm.

  “How’s it look?” he asked the woman behind the counter, who as usual, was the owner herself.

  Hilda rolled her eyes. “Just obnoxious enough to chase away what few tourists we have, then it’ll pass through. You ask me, the ferry team wanted the day off, and that’s why they blew the horn.”

  “Maybe worse than that,” one of the locals offered, glancing up from her iPad and steaming cappuccino. “Latest projections have it picking up in a hurry, lot of rain in the forecast, lightning storm too. Wouldn’t want to be out on a boat in that.”

  Hilda nodded, glancing back to Simon. “Good that it’s end of season, then. Not much traffic other than the group you just ushered out. How’s your grand
mother doing?”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, and Simon asked if she’d seen Caroline, but Hilda shook her head. No one had visited the shop that day under the age of thirty-five, and definitely not a foreigner. She said she’d keep an eye out for her, and instantly, Simon felt embarrassed. Caroline lived in a seaside country, she knew how to manage herself in a storm. The fact that he’d lost track of her was odd, but not dangerous. She might even be avoiding him on purpose.

  Could that be possible? He hadn’t warned her that he was coming out…should he have?

  His complete lack of finesse in relationships blackened his mood, and by the time he reached home again, he parked the truck in the garage and slammed the door shut with a little more heat than necessary. Turning back to the house, he surveyed it with a calculating eye. The rain was coming down now in quick bands of drenching, thick drops, then tailing off as quickly as the wind picked up again. He hesitated in the overhang of the garage for another few minutes, enjoying the play of the water and wind. This far back from the beach, there was no stinging stand to accompany the gusts coming up from the ocean, and the threatening clouds were simply part of the beauty of nature at work.

  In this way, he was a lot like his grandmother. Belle never was one to back down from storms, even when they were bad enough to force her and Bobo several miles inland for their own safety. It was part of living on an island, she’d always told him. When he’d been young and his parents had left him with Bobo and Belle for the summer, they’d ridden out many a storm in the Pinnacle House after sending guests on their way with refunds and exhortations to get to Sea Haven at the least, and ideally west of Charleston.

  The young pirate in him had loved those storms, too, as long as he wasn’t worried about someone else’s safety.

  Simon sighed. He wasn’t worried about anyone’s safety now, either. Caroline didn’t seem like a fool. If she really didn’t want to leave the island, she would have simply stayed at Pinnacle House.