Lead Me On (15 page)

"You'll work it out. Once you decide to do something, you always do it."

If only he had her confidence, Scott thought as he left the room. He found Allison in the music room, setting out cookies on the rococo grand piano. On the frescoed ceiling, cupids took aim at frolicking women and mermen from behind pink and gold clouds. Two guests sat at a Victorian card table working on a puzzle while a TV played quietly in the background. He noted the computer on the small desk in the corner, and realized that solved one of his problems; Chloe would have e-mail access and a place to do homework.

He pulled Allison aside and asked if there was a room available. She said the First Mate was open for the next two weeks. After that, they'd be booked solid for a while.

Nodding, he went to the office and braced himself for another conversation with his sister, who was still in full Drama Queen mode. Only the memory of how close they'd been growing up kept him from losing his patience. Halfway through the hour-long call, Chloe ventured into the room. She'd changed clothes and looked more like herself in ratty shorts, a New Orleans Saints T-shirt, and her hair pulled through the back of a ball cap. She paced before the windows, chewing her nails and listening to his half of the conversation. Finally, he hung up with a sigh, completely drained.

"Well?" Chloe asked.

He gave her a smile. "You get to stay for two weeks—"

"Yes!" She bounced over to him and threw her arms about his neck. "I knew you could do it."

"But we need to set some ground rules." He glanced around to be sure they were alone, then lowered his voice. "First, you have to keep something to yourself. The St. Claires don't know Lawrence isn't the name I was born with, and I want it to stay that way."

"What's the big deal about that?"

"I'll explain more later, but basically our family used to own Pearl Island until John lost it in a bank foreclosure last year. Now he's trying to get it back, so the current owners don't like anyone connected to him very much. So, not a word, okay?"

"Sure." She shrugged, all trace of anxiety gone. "Hey,

do you think we can go scuba diving while we're here?"

"Chloe ..." He stared at her, dumbfounded. "If you think you just earned yourself a two-week, fun-filled vacation, think again. You're staying with me to give you and your mom a short break from each other. But I am not going to reward you for what you did. In fact, in addition to keeping up with your homework, I want you to write a ten-page paper on why it was wrong to run away."

"Ten pages?" Her jaw dropped. "You gotta be joking!"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"Mom never makes me do extra assignments."

"I'm not your mother. You want to stay with me, you follow my rules."

She scrunched up her face. "Okay, but if I do the paper, can we go scuba diving?"

"I'll think about it. But diving around Galveston isn't going to be like Cozumel. The water's murky and there's no coral reef nearby."

"But other people are diving out in the cove. See?" She turned back to the window. "I've been watching them."

"They're just going down to see the old shipwreck."

"There's a shipwreck? Wow, how cool is that!"

He started to tell her the bare bones of the legend, about Marguerite and her lover, the rumors of pirate treasure, when suddenly it hit him, like a lightning bolt straight through his forehead, filling his mind with images.

"That's it!" he shouted. "That's it!"

Chloe frowned at him. "That what?"

"The idea for my next book!" He scooped her up and twirled her around. "That's it! That's it!
That's it!
"

"Scott, what's wrong?" Allison rushed in. "Has something happened?"

He released Chloe and grabbed Allison to waltz her

about the room. "I have an idea. I have an idea."

"For a book?" Her face lit up.

"Yep." He stopped dancing to explain. "Basic premise, a group of young underwater archeologists are invited to a secluded island to search for sunken treasure. There'll be a mansion owned by the villain, who's pretending to be their gracious host. Only the archeologists learn he's using the island as a base for his band of modern-day pirates. Drugs, arms, you name it. Once his cover's blown, the drug lord holds some of the archeologists hostage and forces the others to keep searching for the treasure, planning to murder all of them once it's found."

She frowned at him. "Didn't you do something similar in your first book, Ghost Island?"

"No, that was kids and art thieves. This will be different. Adults, male and female. More room for some interesting relationship twists. Lots of stuff to work with. But finally, I have an idea!" He cupped her face and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth that was too quick to give her time to react, but too long and full to be mistaken as a platonic peck. "Oh yes, lots of room for interesting relationship twists. I need to write this down while it's all still there. Will you help Chloe get settled in her room?"

"Yes, of course."

"Chloe, I'll expect that paper first thing in the morning, so have Allison show you the work station in the music room." He gave Allison another quick kiss. "Thanks."

"But ..." She watched him stride out the door. The room fell silent as if all the energy had gone out with him. She turned and saw Chloe's disgruntled smirk.

"Great." The girl planted her fists on her hips. "If I'd wanted to be ignored, I could have stayed home."

Allison bit her lip, wondering what to say. She had no experience with adolescents since she'd spent the last

ten years avoiding children. "Would you like for me to help you carry your bags to your room?"

"Might as well." Chloe gave a long-suffering sigh. "Lord knows when Uncle Scott will return to earth. Once he starts a book, it's like his brain is living on another planet."

Allison frowned at that. If Scott was holed up in his room writing, who would take care of Chloe for the next two weeks?

When Scott entered the dining room the next morning, Allison was the only one there. "Where is everybody?" he asked.

She turned from the sideboard, where she was setting up the buffet. "You're up early."

"Am I?" He glanced at his watch and realized she was right. "Oh. Well, got any coffee ready?"

"I'm brewing some now. I can bring you a cup when it's done."

"That'd be great." He grabbed a chair and opened the legal pad he'd brought down with him. The story churning in his brain had kept him up half the night and woken him at dawn. Clicking the pen, he started scribbling out the next scene in the cryptic shorthand he'd developed over the years. Later, he'd transfer it to the computer, fleshing it out as he went.

Lost in the flow of action and dialogue, he barely registered the sounds of Chance and Aurora helping Allison set out breakfast. Guests filed in and out, but he ignored the buzz of conversation and the clatter of dishes. A writer didn't survive in the French Quarter without learning to focus even if a Dixieland jazz band were marching down the street.

Oddly, it was the quiet that finally distracted him. He looked up to see he and Allison were once again the only people in the room, only now the remains of breakfast lay strewn across the table, like the carnage of a well-fought war.

"Welcome back." She smiled at him, clearing away the dirty dishes. "Can I get you a pastry or something to go with that coffee?"

His gaze shot to the sideboard, and he saw that most of the food had been taken away. "Man, I missed breakfast."

"I'll get you a Danish," she said, clearly amused as she headed for the basket of pastries.

"Thanks." He stretched to work a kink out of his back. "Although I also came down to check on Chloe." He frowned, wondering if she'd come and gone while he'd been off scuba diving in South America. "Did I miss her?"

"No, she hasn't been down yet."

He glanced toward the stairs, wondering if the girl was sulking in her room, or just sleeping late. She'd certainly sulked last night when he'd taken a break to check on her. He'd found her in the music room watching a movie. Since she'd been the only guest in the room, he'd turned the set off and told her no TV until she finished the assignment he'd given her. Then he'd suffered through her protests as they headed into town to grab dinner.

Deciding to just wait her out, he started to turn his attention back to his writing when she came clopping down the stairs in baggy jeans and T-shirt, her ball cap pulled down nearly over her eyes.

"Well, speak of the devil." He flipped the legal pad closed. "You're finally up."

"Up and starving," she said enthusiastically.

"Did you finish your paper?"

"All ten pages." She handed it to him with a flourish. "Am I too late for breakfast?"

Allison set the Danish next to Scott. "We put away the hot dishes, but there's plenty of cereal, fruit, and yogurt. Help yourself to as much as you want"

While Chloe headed for the sideboard and piled a plate with pastries, Scott read her paper. She'd written a paragraph of essay, then launched into a list of one hundred bad things that could have happened, spacing each item out to be sure the list filled ten sheets of paper. Okay, so maybe that was cheating a bit, but he nodded in approval that she'd included worrying her mother, worrying him, getting hurt, kidnapped, or even killed. As he continued down the list, though, he couldn't help but chuckle. By the time he reached the bottom, he was laughing outright. "You might have been run over by a one-eyed octogenarian in a souped-up wheelchair?"

"Yeah, I kind of liked that one, too." She gave him a cheeky grin as she took a seat across from him, licking sugar from her fingers.

"Okay, I'll knock your grade down to a B for laziness, but I'll add a plus for knowing how to spell octogenarian."

"You're going to grade me?" Her eyes bugged out. "
Sheesh
, this is worse than school."

"Remember that the next time you want to run away." He leaned across the table to hand her back the paper, then snatched the ball cap from her head.

"Hey!" She grabbed for it, but he put it on the chair beside him.

"No hats at the table."

"That only applies to boys."

"You dress like a boy, you follow the same rules. And don't slouch."

"Jeez," she grumbled, but sat up straight.

He saw Allison struggle not to smile as she continued clearing the table. Settling back in his chair, he sipped coffee as he pondered how to handle the next two weeks. Remembering how he and Diane had been at that age, he knew the only way to keep an adolescent out of trouble was to keep them busy. Too bad his parents hadn't cared enough to figure that out. "So, Chloe, how'd you like to help me with my book?"

Her eyes narrowed in speculation. "What kind of help?"

"Research assistant."

She snorted. "Sounds like more homework."

"What if I said the job includes scuba diving?"

"You mean it?" Her face brightened.

"What I need researched is how to hunt for sunken treasure. I figured we'd start by checking out the shipwreck here."

"Man, you got it!"

Allison cocked her head with interest. "Does this mean you're setting another book here on Pearl Island?"

"Yes and no," he answered. "Galveston isn't remote enough for what I need, so I'm moving Pearl Island to somewhere off the coast of South America. But I'd like to use your ghosts for background color, if you don't mind."

"You'll have to ask Marguerite and Jack, not me." Alli smiled.

"Since I didn't hear any ghostly moans or chains rat- ding last night, I assume Marguerite's fine with the idea. As for Jack, I guess I'll get his opinion when we check out the ship."

"Wait a sec." Chloe held up her hand. "What's this about ghosts?"

"The house and cove are haunted by two ghosts," Scott explained. "Since they were in love, the general belief is they're trying to find a way to reunite before they can pass on to the hereafter."

"Really?" Chloe's eyes went round. "That is like way cool. So when do we go diving?"

"As soon as you finish breakfast we'll check into renting equipment."

"We rent gear here." Allison glanced at Chloe. "If you're certified."

"I got my open water certificate on my last birthday,"

Chloe answered proudly. "Since I'm finally twelve."

"All right." Allison eyed the girl as if measuring her body. "If you need to borrow a wetsuit, I think mine will fit you." She turned to Scott. "Would you like me to ask Adrian if you can borrow his?"

"No," he said, imagining her brother's reaction to the idea. Adrian would probably want to weight it with lead and toss Scott in the middle of the gulf with no air tanks. "I'll dive in my swim trunks."

"Are you sure?" Alli said. "You'll be much warmer in a wet suit."

"I'm positive. Now, on to more important matters." He turned to Chloe. "After the dive, we need to head for the library and start looking for a plausible treasure for my adventurers to be going after."

"Why not use Lafitte's missing treasure?" Allison suggested.

"The one that supposedly went down with Jack's ship?" He shook his head. "No, I want something more distinctive than a chest of Spanish doubloons."

"Well," Alli said, "the story of Lafitte's treasure in connection with Jack and Marguerite is actually twofold. There is the traditional treasure people speculate Jack inherited from his grandfather, who was one of Lafitte's men. But there was also Marguerite's necklace, an enormous teardrop-shaped pearl that once belonged to Jean Lafitte. It was given to her by the voodoo midwife who birthed her, as part of the blessing that gave Marguerite her magic."

"Whoa, wait a minute, sit down." Scott pointed to a chair. "Let's start from the beginning. First, how do you know all this?"

"Marguerite wrote about it in her diaries." Setting the dishes aside, Allison took a seat beside Chloe.

"Marguerite kept a diary?" Scott flipped open his legal pad to a clean page.

"Several of them. We have the originals, which are written in French, and the English translations my great-grandmother did."

"Okay, so tell me about this necklace."

"Marguerite's mother was a—" Allison stopped and looked at Chloe.

"Professional woman," Scott supplied for her, since the woman had been a French prostitute.

"Exactly." Allison nodded. "She planned to give her baby to an orphanage. The old voodoo woman who acted as midwife didn't want that to happen, because she feared the child would be neglected or abused. So she named the baby Marguerite, which means 'pearl,' then blessed her saying, 'Whoever keeps this pearl shall have good fortune.' Then she draped a pearl necklace about the baby and told the mother the necklace had to stay with the child in order for the blessing to work."

"So that's how she came to be considered a good-luck charm." Scott jotted down notes. "I've never actually heard the whole story."

Allison nodded. "The mother was greedy enough to keep the child, just to see if the blessing worked. Sure enough, a wealthy patron of the ... establishment fell madly in love with her and set her up in a house with a generous allowance. His own fortune grew dramatically, so the mother told him the story of Marguerite's birth, which proved a powerful incentive for him to keep both of them under his protection. There are other stories of how Marguerite brought wealth to everyone around her, but for her the blessing was more of a curse."

"Why is that?" Chloe asked, wide-eyed with interest.

"Because as word of Marguerite's magic spread, more and more people befriended her solely in hopes that they would grow rich by being near her. Henri LeRoche was the worst of the lot, though, and courted her relentlessly. Her instincts told her not to trust him, but he wore her down with endless vows of undying love until she finally gave in and married him. She truly wanted to believe he loved her, but on their wedding night, all his pretense dropped away. When she realized he'd been lying, she threatened to have the marriage annulled. He beat her and told her she belonged to him now and he'd never let her go. Apart from the physical pain, she was destroyed emotionally, and vowed never to trust or love again."

"Until she met Jack Kingsley," Scott said.

"Yes, but he had a tough time convincing her his love was real after all the others who had lied to her and used her."

Chloe turned startled eyes to Scott, silently asking if that were true.

"Let's get back to the necklace," he prompted, wanting to avoid talk of Henri LeRoche in front of Chloe. Having John LeRoche for a grandfather was bad enough. She didn't need to know she had a distant uncle who was a wife beater.

"When Marguerite was still living in New Orleans, an old Creole woman stopped her on the street and asked her where she got the necklace she was wearing. That's when she found out the midwife had died the night she was born, because the woman's friends couldn't find the necklace even though she'd worn it constantly since the day it was given to her. Then the woman on the street told Marguerite the story of how the midwife came to own such a fabulous pearl. First, though, how familiar are you with Jean Lafitte's life?"

"I live in New Orleans, and I'm insatiably curious." Scott grinned at her. "How well do you think I know it?"

"Okay, then, in her younger years, the voodoo woman used to make medicinal potions for Marie Villars to give to her, um, gentleman friend."