Читать книгу Second Chance Girl - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTHE SWEET DREAMS INN off of Eternal Drive was the stuff of nightmares—at least for Ulrich. His plan had been to leave Happily Inc after he concluded his business with Violet Lund—thief and swindler—return to Los Angeles and catch a flight back to England. Only nothing had gone according to plan.
His meeting with the surprisingly attractive and very animated woman had left him feeling both awkward and confused. She had been able to produce a bill of sale for the buttons his grandmother had sent, and buttons were not what had been stolen from the house. Was she not the thief and if not her, then who?
Ulrich had driven to LA only to reschedule his flight and return to Happily Inc. The Sweet Dreams Inn had been the first hotel he’d seen, so he’d pulled in. Too late he’d discovered it was a themed hotel with each of the rooms representing something ridiculous. For reasons not completely clear to him, he’d agreed to a couple of nights in the Drive-In Room, which was how he found himself with a mattress fit into a red, 1959 Cadillac convertible, a television the size of a movie screen and a sitting room decorated like a concession stand. Even he had to admit the car was beautiful—with big fins and white-walled tires. Still, it wasn’t where one expected to sleep. Regardless of the strange surroundings, the Wi-Fi was excellent and the kitchen delivered meals to his room.
Ulrich had spent nearly a day researching Violet Lund and antique buttons only to come to the conclusion that it was more than possible that she had been telling the truth. There was money to be made in the world of buttons. Even more troubling, it seemed Miss Violet Lund was nothing more than a very honest shopkeeper.
She had no criminal record, no trouble with the IRS, not even a ticket. He’d used several online sites to investigate her and she’d come back annoyingly normal and law-abiding. How could he have been so wrong?
He was never wrong—he made it a point to be sure of things. He’d only been seriously fooled once in his life and that had been by his ex-wife, Penelope. In that case, the deception had been deliberate—at least on her part. Thinking about that didn’t help him at all, and he mentally turned his back on his former wife. The bigger question was what to do about Violet. He’d slept on the information, then had woken up in the morning with no clear idea of what to do next.
After showering, he ordered breakfast and knew he had to come up with a plan—only he had no idea what it would be. He opened another file on his computer and reviewed the list of missing items provided to him by his housekeeper and his own investigation.
The trouble had started three months ago when Ulrich had ordered a complete inventory of the house, including the attics. The project had taken over a month and they’d discovered some truly wonderful pieces. But many things had also been missing.
The public rooms were closely monitored and protected, and the guests who stayed in the hotel wing didn’t have access to the private residence without an escort. The previous inventory had been conducted by his father, nearly five years before. Ulrich had no way of knowing what had been taken when. Or so he’d thought.
His grandmother’s new secretary had offered a possible explanation when she’d told him about the packages being sent to one Violet Lund in Happily Inc, California. He’d kept watch and had seen the last one mailed himself. He’d guessed on the delivery date and when it had aligned with his trip to Los Angeles, he’d decided to make a slight detour to confront the thief. All for naught.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference, then answered the call.
“Please tell me you’re having tea. Good, English tea. What they serve here is dreadful.”
His grandmother laughed. “Poor Ulrich, lost in America. I wish I could say the adventure will do you good, but we both know that’s not the case. How is Los Angeles? Is it sunny this morning? Are you staying by the ocean? I have to say, the Pacific is my favorite of all the oceans.”
Ulrich briefly thought about not telling his grandmother where he was, then dismissed the idea. He was a man of his word and as such, truthful in all things. At least when it came to those he loved. As that list seemed to begin and end with his grandmother—in terms of people and not places—he had to come clean.
“I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in Happily Inc.”
“What on earth are you doing—” His grandmother went silent, then sighed. “You’re there to see Violet? I can’t imagine why.”
“I thought she was stealing.”
“Ulrich! No. You couldn’t. How do you even know I have business with her?”
“I saw the packages.”
His grandmother sniffed. “You mean that horrible woman you made me hire has been spying on me. I’m getting rid of her, Ulrich. You may be the duke but I’m your grandmother and I won’t be told what to do by you or anyone. I’ve disliked her from the start. You convinced me I was being unfair, but I know the only reason she took the position was to be in proximity to you. I’m sure she was hoping you would fall madly in love with her.”
Ulrich thought about the twentysomething woman who served as his grandmother’s secretary. He honestly couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. Nothing about her was memorable. The same could not be said for the very fiery Violet, he thought. Her green eyes had flashed with annoyance, then anger, then disdain. She’d been so beautiful, so alive. He’d always preferred quiet, plain women, but there was something about her riot of red curls and the way she’d moved.
“Ulrich?”
“Yes, Grandmother. You’re quite correct. You are more than capable of hiring or firing any one of your staff. And I apologize for listening to your secretary when she told me about the packages being mailed.”
“As you should.”
He smiled. Despite her stern words, her tone had already softened.
“If you are purchasing buttons yourself and then selling them to Violet, what about the other items that have gone missing?”
His grandmother sighed. “That is a more complicated question than one would think.”
“I have little to occupy my day, so take your time.”
“Fine. If you must know, I sold several of the paintings. I didn’t mean to, but each one was admired by one of our guests. They were lesser works and I had them appraised. I know the price was fair. It was three years ago, when we had the trouble with the roof and the plumbing at the same time.”
Ulrich turned away from his computer and shook his head. “The money you said you’d been saving for an emergency?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. It was from the paintings.”
Her supposed emergency fund—nearly a hundred thousand pounds—had come in handy. While Battenberg Park had been in his family for nearly five hundred years, history came at a price. There was always something to be repaired or replaced. A wet and cold summer had meant a reduction in crops and had kept away the tourists. That, combined with a long-needed roof replacement and some plumbing issues had meant every spare penny had gone back into the house.
The following year had been better and the year after, better still. The coffers were, if not full, then comfortably plump. Technically the estate was never without the possibility of cash. There was always something around that could be sold, but Ulrich wanted to maintain as much of his heritage as possible. Not that he had heirs, but one day, with luck, the family line would be safe for another generation or two.
“Several of the crystal pieces were broken,” his grandmother continued. “I knew you would be upset, so I didn’t tell you.”
He started to ask how that could have happened, then realized the answer. A school for the disabled operated quite near the estate. His grandmother made it a point to hire staff from the school. A few of the students lacked physical mobility and dexterity. It was not impossible to imagine a crystal vase, or five, tumbling to the ground.
He rubbed his forehead. “And the rest of it?”
“A few were donated to worthy causes to help them raise money, there was a small fire in one of the storage sheds while you were traveling to—”
“A fire? You didn’t want to mention a fire?”
“You were on your honeymoon. I knew you would have returned. It seemed easier to handle things myself. Which I did. My point is, you were wrong about Violet. I buy buttons for her when I find them. Nothing else.”
“So it appears.”
He made a mental note to have a more thorough conversation with his grandmother when he returned home. He could only imagine what else she’d kept from him in the name of handling things herself.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice oddly contrite. “I know how much Battenberg Park means to you. I didn’t want to upset you, but it seems my good intentions have had unforeseen consequences.”
“You have no idea.”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but apparently he had because his grandmother’s voice sharpened.
“What does that mean? You haven’t already spoken to Violet, have you? Oh, Ulrich. She’s lovely and I adore her. If you’ve offended her or hurt her feelings...”
“I’ll make it right.” He didn’t want to, but he had no choice. It was a matter of honor. “I have a teleconference later this morning but I will go see her in the afternoon.”
“And apologize.”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“With great sincerity?”
“I promise.”
“Good. She’s very charming, Ulrich. I think you’ll like her if you give her a chance. You’ve met her, you know. Years ago.”
“So she informed me.”
At his house, apparently, although he had no recollection of the event.
“Then I’ll leave you to it. I love you, Ulrich. Be a good boy.”
He smiled. “I will. I love you as well, Grandmother. Goodbye.”
He hung up, then set his cell phone on the desk. He would speak to Violet that afternoon, as he’d said, then drive back to Los Angeles in the morning and get a return flight to London. There was nothing to keep him here. At home there was work to be done. Always work. As for someone special—he’d long since given up on that, but it was time to get on with finding a wife and producing heirs. That was as much his responsibility as the roof or the glazing. And he’d never been a man who shirked what needed to be done.
* * *
CAROL COULDN’T REMEMBER how the standing date with her friends had begun. Perhaps it had existed before she and Violet had moved to Happily Inc and they’d simply been invited to join in. Regardless, it was one of her favorite times—enjoying a couple of hours with the women in her life.
The hosting duties rotated and whoever served as host chose either lunch or dinner and provided the entrée and drinks. Everyone else brought something and a good time was had by all.
If the weather cooperated, Carol always picked lunch when it was her turn. Her friends joined her out by the largest grove of trees on the faux savanna. Her father and uncle set out a big table and chairs for them. Carol had a camp stove where she heated the chicken she’d cooked that morning and would warm the tortillas. The other ingredients for the taco bar were ready in plastic containers and she’d made a sparkling pink non-alcoholic punch to add a festive touch.
“Hi!” Silver Tesdal called as she walked along the path. The tall, leggy platinum blonde carried a shopping bag in one hand. “I always feel as if I need a passport when I come here. I love it!”
They hugged, then Silver set down her bag. “I have the strangest dessert ever, but I think it’s a real find. We’ll have to see.”
Carol eyed the plain white bag. “Now I’m curious.”
“As you should be.”
Before Carol could ask more, the other women arrived. Her sister, Violet, Natalie Kaleta from the gallery, Pallas Saunders who owned Weddings Out of the Box, and Wynn Beauchene, owner of the town’s graphic design and print store.
Violet, who knew about the tacos, had brought chips, dip and guacamole. The other women contributed a green salad and cookies. Carol reached for the champagne glasses she’d carted along, then nodded at Pallas who was doing her best not to grin too broadly.
“Show them,” Carol told her friend.
Pallas laughed, then held out her left hand. A diamond solitaire sparkled on her ring finger.
Violet, Silver and Wynn shrieked, then lunged for their friend and started a group hug. Carol was waved in and they all hung on in celebration.
“How long?” Violet demanded when they’d released each other. “When did he propose?”
“Saturday at the under-the-sea wedding.”
Silver looked from the pink, bubbly drink to Carol. “You knew.”
Carol raised a shoulder. “I helped Nick pick out the ring. He had it narrowed down to three and texted me pictures from the jewelry store.” She’d been surprised Nick would ask her opinion but then had guessed he’d asked Mathias to name a woman who could be trusted not to spill the secret.
She smiled at Pallas. “So if you don’t like it, it’s my fault.”
Pallas clutched her left hand to her chest. “What’s not to like? It’s beautiful.”
Carol passed out the drinks and they all toasted their friend, then sat down to lunch. She quickly heated tortillas for everyone and they served themselves from the taco bar and salad, then took their seats.
“So what’s new?” Pallas asked. “I’ve been in an engagement fog. What have I missed?”
“Violet barely escaped being arrested by a hunky English guy,” Silver offered.
Violet rolled her eyes. “He had no authority to arrest me. Being a jerk is a form of free speech, so he did that instead.” She explained about the button mix-up.
“Did he apologize?” Natalie asked. “He needs to say he’s sorry.”
“Hardly. I’m sure he left town the same day. Good riddance.”
Carol thought about the accusations. Despite her sister’s defiance, she had to have been scared at the time. Or at least uncomfortable.
“I can’t believe he came all this way to confront you about the buttons.”
“Me, either.” Violet picked up her taco. “I’m sure he had business somewhere in the country. Maybe he was lining up tea franchises or something. And that’s enough about my crazy Englishman,” Violet said firmly. She turned to Pallas. “So, you’re putting on a Mitchell wedding.”
Pallas groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m so nervous. I’ve never met Nick’s parents and this isn’t exactly how I’d choose to do it. At a wedding that I’m planning. What if something goes wrong? They’ll hate me forever.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” Natalie said soothingly. “You always do a great job.”
As she spoke, she reached into her large tote bag and pulled out a square piece of purple paper. Her fingers moved quickly and in a matter of seconds, she’d created a small bird. When Pallas picked it up, the wings seemed to flutter.
Carol had no idea how Natalie did that. She took origami from fun to extraordinary. She created all kinds of creatures, made mobiles and origami sculpture. Her job at the gallery was more about paying for her art than because she enjoyed answering the phone.
Everyone had a talent but her, Carol thought wistfully. Violet with her buttons and eye for fashion, Natalie with her mixed-media pieces. Wynn designed posters and banners and everything that could be printed. Pallas created beautiful weddings. Even Silver, who owned a trailer that had been converted to a traveling bar called AlcoHaul made mixology magic at weddings and other events. All Carol did was take care of a bunch of animals. They were special and she was, well, not.
“Nick’s father is a famous artist,” Pallas said, setting the paper bird on her palm. “Everything I’ve heard says he’s really difficult. What if he hates me?”
“He’s not going to hate you,” Silver told her. “You’re too likable.”
“I wish.” Pallas turned to Carol. “Mathias told me he’d asked you to help him with the planning. You’re going to do it, right?”
Violet stared at her sister. “You’re helping plan the wedding?”
“Mathias asked me to, so I agreed. He says he wants a female point of view, but he has Pallas and Maya for that. I think of myself more as his emotional support animal.”
Everyone laughed, then went back for seconds on the tacos. When they were done eating, Silver pulled a tall bakery box out of her bag.
“Okay, I know this is really strange, but it’s cool, too. Tell me what you think.”
She opened the box from the bottom, pulling off the top and exposing what looked like several pink flowers in a flowerpot. Only the flowers were made from meringue, as were the leaves, and the so-called dirt was actually mini dark chocolate chips.
“The flowerpot is cake,” Silver explained. “The fondant icing can be in any color so it coordinates. The same with the flower meringue.”
Carol had never seen anything like it. Judging from everyone else’s look of surprise, they hadn’t, either.
“You could put these on the table,” Pallas breathed. “They’d be decorations and dessert. Tell me you have contact information.”
Silver pulled a business card out of her jeans pocket and handed it over. “Now let’s find out how great this cake tastes.”
She picked up a knife. Carol reached for small plates only to see movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a tail-wagging beagle racing toward them.
“Sophie,” she called as she rose and walked toward the bounding dog. “What are you doing out here?”
Sophie rushed toward her, then stopped at her feet. Carol crouched down and petted her. “Are you all by yourself? Where’s Mathias?” She scanned the area but didn’t see him anywhere. How on earth had Sophie ended up here?
“Did she escape?” Natalie asked with a sigh. “She’s good at that. Yesterday I couldn’t find her for nearly an hour. It turned out she’d crawled into an empty cabinet in the lunchroom and was curled up there, sleeping.”
“I don’t know where she came from,” Carol admitted. “Our fencing is designed to keep our grazing animals in, not small dogs out.” Sophie could have easily slipped through the slats or ducked under one of the gates. The bigger question was how she got out of Mathias’s place. That had to have been her starting point. There was no way she could have made it all the way here from town.
“Come sit by me,” Carol told the beagle as she returned to her chair.
Sophie followed her happily, then flopped at her feet. Carol kept her in place with bits of chicken and cheese. She kept trying Mathias on his cell only to be sent directly to voice mail.
Lunch broke up about twenty minutes later. They all helped with cleanup. Carol herded Sophie to her car, then stored the extra food in her trunk. No way she could trust the dog in the same space as leftovers. She doubted there was a plastic container made that was Sophie-proof.
“We’ll stop by my place first,” she told her canine passenger as they started down the road. “I need to put the rest of the lunch away, then we’ll head over to Mathias’s place and figure out how you got out. After that I have a meeting.”
Actually a teleconference with Maya to help plan her wedding.
“Let’s see, if you’re Elaine’s little girl and Maya is marrying one of her sons, then she’s your what? Aunt-in-law? Sister-in-law?”
Sophie barked and Carol laughed. “Yes, family relationships are complicated.”
So were boy-girl ones, she thought as she drove toward her house. If only Mathias were slightly less attractive. Or not so interested in sexy bridesmaids. If only she were special enough to capture his attention with wild plumage or gorgeous fur.
She paused, realizing she’d slipped into an animal metaphor, which was okay, as long both she and Mathias were animals in that metaphor. Because if she walked in wearing feathers or some kind of animal skin she was pretty sure he wouldn’t think she was much more than frighteningly insane. Still, it would be nice to be one of those sultry, sophisticated types he seemed to favor instead of just herself.
She pulled into her driveway and quickly unloaded the leftovers, then continued her journey to his place. Sophie jumped out of the car and led the way to the front door.
Carol knocked but there was no answer. She tried the knob and it turned easily, so she let the dog in and followed Sophie.
“Mathias, it’s Carol. I brought your dog back.”
There was no answer, but that was hardly a surprise. The house was huge and Mathias could be anywhere.
Sophie barked, then started down the hall. Carol went with her, through the kitchen and out toward the sunroom where she knew he often sketched.
Sure enough he sat at a big drafting table by the window overlooking the animal preserve.
She took a moment to study his broad shoulders and short, dark hair. He had a pad of paper in front of him. His hand moved, creating more quickly than the eye could follow.
“Hey, Sophie,” he said absently, reaching down to rub her ears. “You just wake up?”
“No, she just got home.”
Mathias turned to stare at her. “Carol. Hi. Did I know you were stopping by?”
“I’m not stopping by. I’m returning your dog. She was out on the savanna.”
He dropped the pencil and frowned. “She couldn’t be. She’s been here with me. We came back here and I let her out to do her thing, then closed the back door.” The frown deepened as he stood. “I know I made sure the door latched.”
They walked to the back of the house where a door stood open. Mathias closed it and checked the lock, then turned to Sophie.
“Now you’re scaring me.”
She wagged her tail.
“Maybe she’s like those dinosaurs in Jurassic Park,” Carol teased. “She’s learning how to open doors.”
“This dog is going to take over the world.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on. We have a meeting at Weddings Out of the Box. I’ll drive.”
Because they were going together? Maybe on the way he would turn to her and express his undying lust. They could pull to the side of the road and...
Carol held in a groan. The side of the road? That wasn’t exactly romantic. She couldn’t even fantasize creatively.
“I have no idea why you want me at the meeting,” she said as he clipped a leash onto Sophie’s collar and led the way to his car. “You’re creative enough for ten people. As for the female point of view, Pallas and Violet will both be there. You really don’t need me.”
Mathias held open the passenger door. For a second, when their eyes met, she would have sworn she saw...something. A flash of...
No, she told herself firmly. That was just wishful thinking. Mathias was a charming, sexy lover of one-night stands with beautiful, sexy, out-of-town bridesmaids. To believe anything else was to be a fool.
“You’ll be the voice of reason,” he told her.
“Great. I’m the stern, maiden aunt. How wonderful.”
She snapped her seat belt into place, then patted her lap for Sophie to sit on her. The beagle obliged, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, as if saying she was liked. Not exactly a declaration a girl could dream about, but at least beagle love didn’t ever break your heart.
