Holly

  Dropping her arms, Holly glared at him. “You’re supposed to wait for me downstairs.”

  He gave her nearly nude body a look up and down. “Nice necklace. I especially like the display case.” Turning, he walked toward the fan.

  Hastily, Holly shoved the yellow stone back into her bra, but it hurt so she took it out again. No use trying to hide it now. “That’s broken,” she said as he fiddled with the fan.

  Nick examined the fan, then pushed two hatboxes and a moth-eaten teddy bear aside to find the cord. He followed it until it plugged into an extension cord, then he moved at least twenty boxes until he found the plug. Smiling at her, he plugged in the fan and it started blowing dust and papers across the room.

  Holly knew she should run after the papers, but the air felt so good she ran to stand in front of the fan, her back to it, arms and legs outstretched.

  Nick sat down on an old leather and wood Eastlake chair and watched her. “Wish I had a camera,” he murmured.

  Holly turned her back to him as she let the fan dry the sweat on her body. “Not even you can stop me from enjoying this,” she said.

  “Since when have I tried to stop you from enjoying anything? In fact, I thought part of my job was to give you enjoyment.”

  She turned back to face him. “Don’t start on me—and quit looking at me like that. I have work to do.”

  “Ah, yes, winning the hand in marriage of Belle Chere.”

  She glared at him. “You’re not at all funny.”

  “Sometimes I’ve made you laugh.” His voice was low and husky.

  “Nick! I mean it! I don’t have time to fool around with you.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the smile gone from his face.

  She sat down on an old stool and looked around the huge room at all the boxes, trunks, and cabinets. “As far as I can tell, every piece of paper concerning the occupants of Belle Chere since it was built are in this room. But there’s no organization, no labeling, no way to find something. Cataloging all this is a year-long job for about twenty graduate students.”

  Nick was looking at her in puzzlement. “So what’s the rush? You can become Mrs. Belle Chere, then spend your life reading these old papers.”

  “You can be a real jerk, you know that?” She went across the room to her clothes and angrily pulled on her trousers.

  Nick got out of the chair. “You’re right. I apologize. The problem is that I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Do you need to read every piece of paper in here before you can write your dissertation?”

  She was buttoning her blouse. Her clothes were dusty and wrinkled, but at least they were now dry. “No,” she said, “things have changed. I just need—” She waved her hand. “It’s too much to go into.” She opened a big armoire, then sighed when she saw the contents: boxes of various ages and states of deterioration, with hundreds of old letters shoved into the empty spaces. She pulled out two letters. “World War One and the Civil War,” she said. “How will I find anything quickly?”

  Moving behind her, Nick put his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t move away. “I have an idea. How about if we go downstairs and you take a shower while I make us some lunch? While we eat you can tell me what to look for, then I’ll come up here and help you.”

  When Holly looked hesitant, Nick said dryly, “I can read.”

  “I…” Holly began, but her face turned red.

  “I make a mean lemonade,” he said.

  “In that case…” Smiling, she headed for the door, but Nick stopped her. He put his hands at her neck and pulled the necklace he’d given her to outside her blouse. “It looks good,” he said softly.

  Holly thought he was going to kiss her so she leaned forward, but Nick took her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “You’re too sweaty for me!”

  “Shall I test that?” Holly said over her shoulder.

  “Please don’t,” he said in such a pleading way that she laughed.

  Forty-five minutes later, Holly felt much better. She’d taken a cool shower, washed her hair with Lorrie’s shampoo, washed her underwear and hung it on his heated towel bar, and she was now sitting in the kitchen with Nick eating a thick turkey sandwich. She was on her third glass of icy cold lemonade, and she’d just finished telling Nick all she knew of the story of Arthur, Jason, and Julia.

  “So you’re looking for the 1840s,” he said. “But exactly what are you looking for? Julia’s diary telling her private story?”

  “I wish. I found a Bible that contained some dates but not much else.” She started to look in her pocket for her notes, but she was wearing Lorrie’s green silk dressing gown. “The dates are right and the facts are there. Everything happened in 1842. The Bible said Julia married Jason on the ninth of April 1842, and three days later he died, but it didn’t say how he died. She married Arthur in June and had a baby—” She took a drink of her lemonade.

  “Early December,” he said.

  “Right. How did you know that?” Before he could answer, she said, “Big family.”

  “Yeah, lots of pregnant women in my family. We Taggerts are very fertile.”

  “Speaking of which—”

  “More lemonade?” he asked, cutting her off. “When did Arthur die?”

  “November something, before the baby was born.” She looked at her sandwich. “We’ll have to buy Lorrie some groceries to replace these.”

  “What else did you find for 1842?”

  “A big black book of slaves bought and sold,” she said, her lip curling. “I couldn’t look at it. That’s one aspect of American history I can’t abide. Human beings put on an auction block and—”

  Nick put his hand on her arm. “At least the publication of the records can help people find their ancestors.”

  “True,” she said. “Maybe afterward I can find—”

  “What’s that sound?”

  Holly listened for a second, then jumped up. “It’s my cell phone.” Her bag was on the floor by the front door. She ran to the hall, grabbed her phone and listened, her face falling with every second. She said good-bye then went back to the kitchen.

  “That was Taylor. I have a fitting today. She says she told me about it, but I didn’t remember.”

  She looked so forlorn that Nick put his arm around her shoulders. “Your dad said I had to look after you only while you were here. How about if you drop me off at Spring Hill, I get my truck, you go to your fitting, and I’ll go to the local library? If Jason Beaumont was hanged the newspapers will be full of it.”

  “Can you? I mean, do you—?”

  He pulled away from her, one eyebrow raised. “Do I know how to research? Sure. It’s easy.” He stepped back, unbuttoned his shirt halfway down, gave her a lascivious look, and said, “So what do you have on Belle Chere in 1842?” He looked like a very sexy gang member.

  Holly laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “If it works it’ll be worth it. Remember, I want the job.”

  “Job?” she said and felt guilty, as though he’d read her mind about her idea of sending him off to Hollander Tools. “Oh, you mean as manager of Belle Chere after I…after I…”

  “After you marry the owner of this place.”

  “Yeah,” she said, but was unable to meet his eyes.

  Nick put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Come on, now, you’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

  “Not even close. I was thinking that you cannot possibly work here after Lorrie and I—I mean, if Lorrie and I—” She glared at him. “You nearly went crazy last night when Lorrie kissed me.” She expected Nick to deny it, but he didn’t.

  “You ready to go?” he asked, no humor in his voice. “This research might take a while.”

  Holly got up from her chair and followed Nick outside to the car. Again, she thought how Nick was the only difficulty in her plans for the future. If she could just take Nick out of the picture, she felt sure that everything would work out the
way she wanted it to.

  She glanced at him as he started the car and thought that the problem was that she didn’t want Nick to leave. She needed his help on the research and she needed—Truthfully, there wasn’t anything she actually needed him for. Except maybe sex. Fabulous sex. Earth shaking sex. The best sex—

  “Keep looking at me like that and you’ll never make your appointment.”

  She glanced to her right. Through the trees she could see Belle Chere. It was absurd to love a house so much, but what she really loved was a way of life. She could see herself in that house with three children. She saw herself in meetings with local and national preservationists.

  She turned to look at Nick. What she couldn’t see was herself living with him. Nick joked and teased, but she could see that he was a proud man. He wouldn’t want to live off his wife—which meant that Holly would have to try to live on his earnings.

  Holly looked away. I’m a snob, she thought. And lazy. I don’t want to spend my days doing the laundry. I want—

  For a moment, she closed her eyes. It was better to think about her dissertation than to try to predetermine her future.

  Chapter Eleven

  “DARCI?” NICK SAID INTO THE PHONE. “ARE YOU busy?”

  “Never too busy for you. How is everyone?”

  “Fine. Great,” he said impatiently. Darci Montgomery was his cousin’s wife and she was clairvoyant.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You tell me,” Nick said and gave a nervous laugh.

  “Okay. There’s a woman near you and there’s a big hole full of gold.”

  “It does exist then?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure. There’s a man here who says a treasure was buried by his relative over a hundred years ago, but he’s not somebody I like. He—”

  “It’s possible that he’s going to marry the woman you love.”

  “I do not love her!” Nick said indignantly.

  “That’s like saying an acorn isn’t an oak tree.”

  “Huh?”

  “Acorns grow; love grows. Your love for her now is the size of an acorn, but it’ll soon be the size of an oak.”

  “Great news, since you just said she’s probably going to marry someone else,” Nick said.

  “One thing about the future is that it can be changed. Nick,” Darci said, “there’s something wrong there. I’m not sure what it is, but something is wrong. It’s as though I’m seeing two visions at the same time. This young woman has dark hair?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said softly. “And a body like out of an underwear catalog. Today she had on—”

  Darci’s laugh cut him off. “There are some scenes I don’t need to see.”

  “So we find this treasure, then she marries the guy with the big house,” Nick said gloomily.

  Darci was quiet for a moment. “What are you up to? You can afford to buy the biggest house in America—and so can she. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Hollander Tools. I can’t go into the details now, but she thinks I’m poor, uneducated, and…You get the idea.”

  “I guess that’s why I see lies all around you. If you tell her who you are she’ll tell you she loves you.”

  “Does she?” he asked eagerly.

  “All I see is confusion around her. I feel sorry for her. She likes you a lot, but she loves her family. In her mind, if she loves you she’ll lose her family. It’s not fair that you’re trying to make her choose between you and her family.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Nick said. “I’m a genuine cad.”

  Darci laughed. “Definitely! But, Nick, listen, there’s some real danger around you. Someone’s watching you both.”

  “For the treasure or for Holly’s inheritance?”

  “Both. There’s something there that needs feeding and it eats gold. Does that make sense?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s a big house complete with outbuildings. It looks like a set from Gone With the Wind. It’s what Holly truly loves.”

  “No. She truly loves her family. Nick—”

  “So what about this guy Lorrie? The guy you say she’s going to marry?”

  “Danger to him or from him, I don’t know which.”

  “Not from him, but there’s danger he may walk into my fist if he doesn’t keep his hands off Holly. So, tell me, any ideas where this treasure is?”

  “It’s in a big hole in the ground, a natural cave, but a small one. There’s a tree growing over the opening. The two men who put the gold in the ground planted the tree and now you can’t see the hole. The only way you’ll find it is—You know, I’m not going to tell you that. If you dig through the old records and use your brains, you and your girlfriend will be able to find it. But, you know something, that man, Lorrie?”

  “Yes?”

  “He doesn’t believe it exists. He just wants Holly there. Nick, please tell her who you are.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, wanting to change the subject. He didn’t want Darci telling him what he already knew, that he was doing a low-down, despicable thing to a very nice person. “So what have you been up to lately?”

  “Oh, the usual, setting ghosts free, collecting magic objects, hauling dead men back from the light. Same ol’, same ol’.”

  Nick laughed. “I miss you. Any word on…?”

  He heard Darci swallow. “Adam and Bo? No, no word, but I think I may be closer. The FBI—Oh well, my story can wait. Why don’t you send me some things owned by the people you’ve been telling me about and let me see what I can feel? I’ve got this ‘Touch of God’ now and—”

  “A what?”

  “It’s too long to go into. I’ll tell you later. I know I can use it to help raise the dead, but I’m not sure what else I can do with it.”

  “And here I’ve been excited about some silly ol’ treasure. Raising the dead, huh?”

  “Only one dead man and I had a lot of help.”

  “Oh. That’s a disappointment. I was hoping you’d done it all alone.”

  Darci laughed. “I miss you, too. Send me the things and—I have to go. Linc’s here.”

  “Linc who?” Nick asked sharply.

  “Don’t worry, there’s no other man in my life. It’s Lincoln Aimes.”

  “The actor?” Nick’s voice rose.

  “Want an autographed picture?”

  “No, I…”

  Darci laughed again. “You want to be reassured that I still love my husband, your cousin. Oh, yes. More than ever. Forever. Now I have to go. Linc and I and the girls are going out.”

  “How’s your father?” Nick asked before she hung up.

  “He’s in Mesopotamia.”

  “Does it still exist?”

  “It does in Georgia. He’s talking to a blind man who isn’t really blind. I have to go! Good-bye, Nick, and tell her who and what you are. You’re torturing her.”

  Smiling, Nick hung up. “Torturing, huh?” he said aloud and liked the sound of it. Holly in her teeny-tiny white underwear, standing in front of a fan, leaning over boxes, had nearly sent him into an insane asylum. “Turnabout’s fair play,” he said, then tossed the truck keys in the air and caught them. He had some research to do.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FITTING FOR THE BRIDESMAID DRESS WAS worse than Holly had imagined. The dress was awful: lavender chiffon, off one shoulder, with a wrapping of foot-wide ruffles. The double ruffle started at one shoulder, spiraled down under her arm, across her back, across her hip, then down over her thighs. When she took a step, the wide ruffling floated out around her so that she felt as though she were wearing Frisbees.

  “Taylor!” she said, sending a pleading glance to her stepsister in the mirror. Of course, Holly didn’t plan to wear the awful dress, and instead planned to wear a bridal gown, but still…

  “Don’t worry about it. You look great. Just think about what you’re going to make me wear at your wedding.”

  “Does that mean you know something I don’t?”

  “
With the way Lorrie was looking at you last night, I think you’ll be in white within a year.”

  “You think so?” Holly said, still looking at Taylor in the mirror. Absently, she held the necklace Nick had given her.

  “What is that?”

  “Nothing,” Holly said and dropped the necklace back into her bra.

  “It’s from a man, isn’t it? Wait! Don’t tell me. It’s from the two-days-of-divine-sex guy, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Holly said slowly, her face turning red.

  “So let’s see it.”

  Holly turned away. “It’s just a cheap necklace. I’m sure my neck’s going to turn green from the chain.” She put her hand over the top of her dress protectively.

  “Hmmm,” Taylor said. “Should I tell Lorrie he has competition?”

  “Of course not!” Holly snapped, then looked at Taylor in conspiracy. “Well, maybe a little competition. Just to spice things up.”

  “Speaking of spice, how was your day out with the lawnmower boy?”

  “Nick? He dozed in a hammock while I nearly died of the heat in the attic.” She turned away so her sister wouldn’t see her face.

  “Hammock, huh? Maybe I should go with you tomorrow.”

  “You do and I’ll put you to work. There are thousands upon thousands of ledgers and letters to go through.”

  Taylor shivered. “No, thank you. So what are you planning for the weekend?”

  “Nothing much. Research, I guess.”

  “Will Lorrie be back?”

  “I have no idea,” Holly said, frowning. Taylor’s teasing made her see that she’d had little contact with Lorrie. He hadn’t made a date with her or even arranged to see her again.

  Taylor smiled. “Come on, don’t look so glum. He kissed you in front of our parents, didn’t he? And he gave you a key to his house. If he did any more it would have involved a clergyman.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Holly said, but she was hesitant.

  “Cheer up,” Taylor said, looking at her watch. “I have to go. Charles is waiting for me.”

  “As he has been for years.”

  “Yeah,” Taylor said, grinning. “You get out of that dress and take some time off. Go shopping.”