*
Despite the flurry of enthusiasm that surrounded Shae’s new project, she still managed to worry
. What was Lucius thinking since she’d helped him lose his job? Was he relieved to be free of King’s bullying, to drift into retirement, or perhaps to some other position? Or did he mean to win his place back, as he had several times before during his rocky relationship with Father?
She worried too, about the man she’d met last night
. What on earth had possessed her to give a strange
r
a man she’d hated on first meetin
g
her last, living bird? It had been an impulse, undeniable at the time, unexplainable at present. Was she, like King, losing herself in this maelstrom she’d stirred up?
Once more, she thought about the stranger
. Phillip Payton, he had called himself. She felt, more than remembered, the way his hands had touched hers, the way he’d gentled her hurt finch. Strong hands. She wondered how they’d feel if they held her.
With a tired sigh, she shivered, despite the stuffiness of the workshop
. She might as well go home, if she couldn’t keep her mind off Phillip Payton’s hands.
She frowned and checked the clock
. It wasn’t even four, but she needed to leave. She thought about Delilah, dozing patiently outside the shop’s back door. Her left foot twitched in anticipation of the pressure of the stirrup. Father didn’t like her to quit so early, but . . . It wasn’t as if he could dock her pay. After nodding a goodbye to Michael, she tucked the shell pendant design into a pocket. Maybe her work ethic would stir later. For now, she needed to feel the movement of the horse beneath her, to breathe the warm beach air again.
Slipping out the back, she successfully avoided King
. But with her first glance at the gold mare, all thoughts of the beach vanished. Someone had draped a frayed and filthy carpetbag over the sidesaddle. Shae looked around, in an attempt to find the owner. But not even a tramp lurked in the alley. Curious, she slipped the bag off the pommel and opened it. A puff of dust made her sneeze twice.
Inside, her fingers brushed what felt like crumbled leaves and then a small square of sewn fabric
. When she drew it out, she thought it was some sort of jewelry bag. Something hard and heavy lent the cloth sack weight. How strange. Why would someone leave a piece of jewelry here, where anyone might take it? Intrigued, she loosened the drawstring and poured the contents into the palm of her right hand.
She stared unblinking at the object, her pounding heart the only part of her that dared to move
. Tears sprang to her eyes, even faster than her mind’s denial.
No
. It couldn’t be. It must have been the dust that choked her. This couldn’t be her mother’s cameo! Yet how could there be another such as this? With a trembling hand, she lifted it, allowing the golden chain to sparkle in the late afternoon sun. Despite a bit of grime, the necklace looked as beautiful as Shae remembered. The pendant’s rich, red-brown carnelian still reminded Shae of blood-bonds, hers to her mother, her mother’s to Ireland. Atop it, layers of creamy ivory depicted the profile of a woman’s head, her tresses curved around her as if with a breeze. A larger brass oval framed the portrait with delicate, intertwined shapes of leaves, flowers, grapes, and exquisite filigree. The quivering of Shae’s hand spread to her entire body. She was certain.
Mother’s
! This had to be her Mother’s pendant after all!
Tears blurred the cameo’s outlines, then rolled freely down Shae’s face
. Her heart threatened to pound its way through the confines of her chest. Breath came in ragged gulps. The only thing that Glennis took had been her jewelry. So had her mother sent this? Why now? Why at all?
With fingers that trembled until they, too, blurred in her vision, Shae reached into the carpetbag again
. Desperately, she felt about the crumbling leaves until she brushed the uneven margin of torn paper. She lifted it, then wiped her eyes so she might read.
It’s not what you think
.
That was all. No signature, no words of explanation. Just five words scrawled across a torn, old strip of paper. Five words to change her life.
Shae flipped over the scrap and found its back side blank, then turned it again to be sure the words remained
. Thin pen-strokes scuttled like crab legs across the fragment; the handwriting looked rushed. And vaguely familiar. Where had she seen it before this?
Might it be Lucius’s
? She tried to picture his script and decided it was possible. He’d had the opportunity as well. After all, he had been last to leave the shop. And he’d left under such wretched circumstances. But if he had held her mother’s cameo, surely he would have given it to her before. Wouldn’t he? Why would he have kept it until the day that he was fired?
Tucking the scrap inside the jewelry sack, she replaced it inside the frayed carpetbag, then untied and climbed aboard the horse
. Nausea and confusion competed for attention. Her head ached as her thoughts began to spin out of control. She had to get away from here, to think in peace before her father spied her. Heaven only knew what he might say if he saw this. Heaven only knew how it might hurt him.
Is that what it was meant for
? Could it be a message to wound King? Or was it meant to comfort her? Or neither? Had someone else merely found the necklace and decided to be cruel? Dozens of questions detonated in Shae’s head, each one more disturbing than the last. Before she could begin to form a plan, her mare was trotting, of her own volition, toward Austin Street and the prospect of a meal.
There must be something at her family’s home, Shae thought
. There had to be. Something, anything, to begin answering the questions. Something to help her mind shout down the suspicion she could not yet bear to put in words. The nameless one that had haunted her nightmares from the first, six years ago. The one she’d never quite been able to deny.
Time, today, to stop pretending
. It was time to give that fear a name, to wonder if her mother had really run away at all. Or had her father killed her and then covered up his crime? As if the thought lifted a floodgate, all the pieces seemed to flow together now: the change in King’s demeanor from difficult to dreadful, her mother’s disappearance without possessions or goodbyes, the fact that, in all these years, Shae had never heard a word from anyone to let her know that Glennis Rowan lived.
Overwhelmed by emotion, Shae pulled the horse to a reluctant stop
. Heedless of the mare’s past mischief, she let the reins drop, then slid down and vomited into the gutter. Though she sensed eyes on her, she couldn’t bring herself to look up at the rows of white frame houses. Instead, she staggered like a drunk back toward Delilah, who spooked at her approach, as if she’d never seen Shae. Shae wasted several minutes catching the vexing beast.
After her sudden bout of illness, Shae felt different
. Empty of her fears and numb. She slipped her foot into the stirrup and once more pulled herself into the sidesaddle. She knew she could go on now, could go back to the house and bear to look. She would do it because she must. Because she could no longer hide from her suspicions. Because she had to know the truth.
*
The moment Phillip saw his two sisters together, involved in solemn conversation, a chill of premonition dashed up his spine. Ordinarily, without Mother here to force them together, the twins quite naturally avoided one another at most times. They may have shared a womb once, but for years Justine and Lydia had recognized that they had little else in common.
Even more alarming, when Lydia looked up, her dark eyes glittered brightly, as if with exultation over someone else’s disaster
. Beside her, Justine’s brow wrinkled with concern.
“Phillip, please come in and sit with us,” Lydia invited.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did you receive some sort of note? Or is Mother ill, or
Rache
l
?”
“Of course not,” Justine interrupted, but her expression assured him this conversation would be nearly as painful
. “They’re in perfect health.”
“I know about Rachel because I saw her just this morning,” Lydia barreled on, apparently oblivious to the gentling hand her twin placed on her arm
.
“Then she’s safely home.” Phillip sighed relief
. Sometimes Lydia could be so ridiculous. This was nothing after all.
“I heard,” continued Lydia, “that Rachel never left town in the first place.”
“Don’t be ludicrous. She’s been away for weeks.” Though his words came in a torrent, Phillip almost instantly felt the room grow warm and close.
“In hiding, so it seems.”
“Lydia, have a care,” warned Justine.
“If there’s some accusation you would bring, I’d like to hear it.” Phillip frowned down at both sisters and tried to ignore what sounded too much like his own suspicions
. Still, he continued, adding heat to his denial. “Then we can get past whatever nonsense you’ve dreamed up.”
“It isn’t nonsense,” Lydia insisted
. “I’ve heard she’s quite upset about this labor rubbish, and about a certain member of society’s betrothal.”
“Why would she care about anyone’s engagement
? The two of us are to be married in the spring. We’re in love,” Phillip said, thinking all the while of his unanswered letters, his unacknowledged gifts. Did he only hope that she still loved him? Was he just pretending he was certain he loved her?
“She only agreed to marry you after Ethan Lowell made other plans.”
“Wherever did you hear such vile gossip? How dare you repeat it in my presence?” Now he knew she was deluded, if she would believe his fiancée felt any affection for his friend. How many times had he and Rachel argued over her refusal to accompany him on the
El Dorado
or even to a dinner where Ethan was expected? Though she would never explain her reasons, it had long been clear that Rachel despised Ethan.
Justine reached up for his arm and tried to pull him to the sofa
. “Please, Phillip, I think you need to listen.”
His limbs stiffened at her words
. Justine apparently felt there was something to this beyond Lydia’s typical drivel. Though he refused to sit down by his more sensible sister, he managed to resist an impulse to stride out of the room. Despite a fresh breeze, the room was sweltering. Phillip felt sweat trickle down his back.
Lydia continued, her words scorching and relentless
. “There’s more, Phillip. I heard weeks ago that she was still here, but Justine wouldn’t dream of telling you without some proof. Why, she even told me she’d have nits put in my hairbrush if I tried!”
Phillip managed a wooden nod toward Justine
. He could scarcely imagine the theatrics involved in Lydia’s reaction to
that
threat. He wished Justine could have found a muzzle, too, to prevent Lydia from saying one more word.
But there was no force that could stop her onslaught now
. “Then, finally, this morning I caught he
r
or
them
, I should say, walking together on the grounds of the Tisdale House.” Lydia waited like an actress pausing for effect, then found her voice once more. “I thought at first he was a workman, because of the old clothes. Then I realized it was Ethan with her. They were walking close and holding hands. Oh, Phillip, she was preening shamelessly! I was horrified.”
“Horrified, or thrilled that your spying at last bore fruit
? You know, there’s probably some perfectly innocent explanation. Perhaps Ethan was counseling her about this trouble I’ve been having.” Yes, that must be it. How reasonable that theory sounded.
“He kissed her
. Held her close before they parted.”
“I refuse to believe it
. You’re simply lying to upset me. You’ve always delighted in rumors. For all I know, you’ve made this up to ingratiate yourself with your fickle friends. I won’t have Rachel’s name and mine ruined, Lydia. I won’t stand for these lies.” He felt vaguely like a candle, melting. Despite the heat, a nauseating chill ripped through his center.
Late afternoon sunlight slanted through a window and glistened off a tear-trail on his sister’s face
. “You’re not being fair. I’ve never lied to you,” Lydia insisted. “And I didn’t follow her so I could gossip. I just wanted to protect you. I know you’d rather I turned into Justine. She’s always been your favorite. But I love you, Phillip. I couldn’t bear to imagine Rachel deceiving you. I haven’t told another soul, I swear it. And I won’t, either. Not one other person.”
“Hasn’t Lydia yet proven her loyalty to you?” Justine asked
. “Haven’t we both?”
It was the only reference Justine had ever made to their staying here to support him, when Mother fled to New Orleans
. For Justine the choice had been simple. Society had no power to snub a young woman who deliberately chose isolation. But Lydia had been caught up in a whirlwind of dance and parties and elegant dresses that highlighted her dark beauty. She had agonized, but she had chosen Phillip.