The Sapphire Pendant (51 page)

“No, it won’t make it any more successful,” Michelle muttered.

Jessie headed for the door. “Trust me. We won’t have anything to worry about.”

* * *

An hour later, Michelle sent Jessie a smug look. “Nothing to worry about, huh?”
 

Jessie stared at the many bookshelves lining the wall. Her flashlight skimmed over the rows of books. Her hopes of an easy retrieval vanished. “I don’t remember it looking like this. She must have started collecting books.”

“Obviously. The last time we were here was years ago.”

“I was here waitressing.”

“Yes, but you didn’t go into the library.”

“I know, but I was sure—”

Teresa hit them. “Will you two stop talking and start looking?”

Each selected a bookshelf then quickly searched the selection of books. A few minutes later they heard footsteps come down the hall towards them. They stopped and listened for the steps to pass. They didn’t. The door slowly opened. The light from the hallway, growing wider ready to expose them as it made a sweeping arch across the floor.

The sisters dashed into a closet just as the lights went on. Fortunately, the new occupant didn’t stay long. The lights shut off and they heard the door close.
 

Jessie sighed relieved. “Good. They’re gone. Let’s go.”

“We can’t,” Teresa said.

“Why not?”

“The door won’t open. There’s no knob.”

Michelle turned on her flashlight and saw a wooden slab that had been their entrance. She shifted the light around them. “I can’t believe this. We’re in the old elevator. The second door must have closed on us.”

“Strange, I didn’t hear it,” Jessie said.

“That’s because your heart was pounding so loud.”

“Push a button or something,” Teresa said.

Michelle pressed a few buttons. “They don’t work.”

Jessie hit the walls. “How do we get out of here?”

“Stop that. We don’t want someone coming to get us.”

Teresa sat down and pulled her knees to her chest. “I knew we shouldn’t have come.”

Jessie pulled her hair. “What are we going to do?”
 

Michelle glanced around the space. “We were locked in here before when we were kids and we escaped, we’ll do it again.”

Jessie rested her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “And I know how.” With her sister’s help, she lifted a panel on the top of the elevator and hoisted herself up then helped Michelle and Teresa through. She shut the panel and they stood on top of the elevator looking up into the darkness.
 

“It’s like being trapped in a vertical tomb,” Teresa said in a hushed voice.
 

“Just follow me.” Jessie felt the walls and latched onto the bottom step of a metal ring ladder. They climbed it until they reached a tunnel above the second floor bedrooms.

“I assume you know where you’re going,” Michelle said.

“Good. I’ll let you keep that assumption.”

“Ow!” Teresa cried, hitting her head on a low beam. “Were people shorter in the twenties?”

“Be quiet,” Michelle said. “You don’t want them to hear us.”

“Sorry, I’ll try not to hit my head so hard next time.”

“Come on,” Jessie ordered. “This tunnel will lead us to the west room. It’s usually empty.”

Although the room was dark and quiet, they still lifted the vent with care. They lowered themselves to the floor, trying to fall to the ground as softly as possible.

Jessie headed for the window. “We’re almost free.”
 

A low deep grumble followed her statement.

“Was that you?” Teresa whispered.

“No, it was him.” Michelle nodded and pointed to an old man sleeping in an ornate four poster bed, his arm wrapped around a large Doberman. Its shinning eyes focused on them.

Jessie frowned. “Who sleeps with their dog like that?”

Teresa grabbed her arm. “Who cares? Get us out of here.”

The dog lifted its head as they crept sideways to the window.

“Good dog,” Teresa soothed.

The dog continued to stare.

“I think he’s just curious. He’s probably really friendly.”

The dog bared its teeth as Jessie slid the window open. They scrambled out as the dog leaped from the bed and ran towards them. Jessie shut the window, just as he jumped.

“Okay, now we’re out.” Jessie inhaled deeply and stared up at the sky, appreciating the wind and rain on her face. Never had a stormy night sky looked so beautiful.

“Yes, we’re out, but we’re on the roof,” Michelle said.

Jessie chewed her bottom lip thoughtful. “If we could just make it to the mother-in-law house, we’d be okay.”

“We can’t go running about on top of the roof,” Michelle said. “In spite of the storm, it’s a bright night and the moon would give us away.”

“Fine. There’s a trellis by the side of the house near the second servants’ entrance. It’s not far from here.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

They sprinted across the roof, the rain had softened but the wind acted like a mean spirited child, trying to blow them off.

“This is awful,” Teresa said.

“There’s no reason to worry.”

Michelle sniffed. “Yes, if we fall, death is pretty much certain.”

“Cut it out, Mich,” Jessie warned.

They reached the trellis and climbed down ready to run across the lawn with the black night as their camouflage. Then the servants’ entrance door opened. A stream of light fell on them piercing through the wind and darkness. Two shadows came into view their similar reddish blond hair tossed by the breeze. The sisters recognized them instantly: the Donovan brothers, their past tormentors.

The two men smiled. “Hello girls. Remember us?”

The sisters only stared.

The brothers’ smiles grew. One stepped back so they could enter. “Come inside. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Chapter 30

The brothers ushered them into the dinning room where a meeting was in progress. It looked nothing like the Ladies League, however. The dinning table resembled the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. Porcelain teapots and cups fought for space with gin and other liquor bottles, sherry glasses, half eaten cookies, and tea cakes sat on decorated paper plates.
 

Three women sat around the table: Mrs. Ashford, wearing a large, extravagant hat more suited for a spring wedding than a summer storm, tsked at the state of their clothes; Mrs. Donovan instructed her sons to leave the room, and Bertha in her large purple turban and intense dark eyes wore an unreadable smile.

“Take a seat,” Mrs. Donovan said. “We’ve been expecting you. Bertha said you would come tonight.”

Bertha nodded. “It was the wind.”

Michelle took a step forward. “We can explain.”
 

Mrs. Ashford waved her hand. “No need to, dear. We know it all.” She giggled. “I must say that you made our evening very interesting.”

The corners of Mrs. Donovan’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “Yes, I never laughed so hard.”

Bertha spoke up, offering an explanation. “We watched your little burglary attempt on the security monitor.” She gestured to the large screen on the far wall. It had a picture of every room inside the house and outside on the grounds.
 

“Nobody lands on my property without being under surveillance,” Mrs. Donovan said. “The elevator was a great idea. I’m afraid the boys thought it would be fun to close the elevator on you. We were about to release it when Jessie had her idea.” She clapped her hands. “How inspired.”

Mrs. Ashford watched them. “They’re not smiling. Perhaps we should explain.”

“Yes.”

“First things first, would you like anything to drink? No need to make a face Jessie we’re perfectly sober. Now what would you like?”

“We’re fine thank you,” Michelle said, answering for all of them.

Mrs. Ashford clasped her hands together. “So you found out about the necklace?”

They nodded.

“And the pendant?”

They nodded again.

“I bet you’re thinking some very unkind thoughts about your father right now.”

Teresa toyed with her sleeve; Michelle folded her arms while Jessie bit her nails.

“Your father was a true artist,” Mrs. Ashford said. “He created the best imitations this coast has ever known. Everyone in the Ladies’ League just adored him. Many of us don’t like to wear our valuables in public so we use a substitute.”

Teresa hit Jessie as an ‘I told you so.’

“He was brilliant.” She studied them. “You’ve seen the list, haven’t you?”
 

“Yes,” Michelle said. “Why did you do it? Why did he?”

“What exactly do you think we’ve done?”

“Bought and sold forgeries.”

Mrs. Donovan spoke to the other two women. “They have such an imagination.” She turned to them and shrugged. “That’s not it at all. I took a few courses in antiquities and the like and became enchanted with the history of things, especially expensive things.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “That’s why I had my husband start the Historical Society. I noticed how an object could make a place famous or rich. However, I soon grew tired of looking at other people’s possessions and started to acquire my own, telling their stories and capturing people’s interest.”
 

She poured some tea adding a drop of sherry. “Isn’t it interesting how you can take any ordinary thing and give it a story and then it’s worth something? That concept has always fascinated me. It gave me the idea for the museum.”
 

“So you asked my father to help you fill the museum with fakes?” Jessie asked.

The women gasped. Mrs. Ashford shook her head. “Everything in the museum is genuine, dear. We would never do that.”

“Or be that stupid,” Mrs. Donovan said. “The Historical Society helped make Randall County one of the richest in the state. Think of all the revenue from tourists.”

“But the histories are fiction. I saw my father’s drafts.” Jessie said. “Are you telling me the story of the Arand necklace is real? If it is, why did my father have a copy?”

“A young Scottish man was enslaved by the British and sent to the Caribbean for pledging loyalty to Charles II. He finally immigrated—”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Is the necklace real?”
 

Mrs. Donovan shrugged. “What is the truth, but something we chose to believe? What is history but records of someone’s point of view?”

Michelle shook her head. “That’s dangerous thinking.”

“That’s the kind of thinking that has kept this community strong. We are connected. We protect each other. The Historical Society gives pride to all the diverse cultures of the county and shows the connections of people we chose not to see. Our children are brought up with a sense of history that carries them all through their lives.”

Bertha rested her hands on the table. “You are not only insulting us but also your father by your accusations. We have done nothing you need to worry about. Sometimes the actions of one generation cannot be understood by the next, but trust us you reap the benefits of what we do.”

Michelle frowned. “And the burdens.”

“Your father listened to the elements—the stones and the metals—and heard their stories then he told us and we believed them. Naturally we had the stories confirmed, but his word usually was enough.”

“So everything is legit?”

“What do you think?”

“Just tell us,” Jessie said.

“We would hope you would have the faith in your father and us to just believe us,” Bertha said. “If you’d held the necklace in your hand and just taken a moment to listen to your inner truths, you would have known.”

Mrs. Ashford adjusted her hat. “Your father was a complicated man, but he was a man with integrity. I can’t tell you
all
that he was up to, but I do know he never did anything you need to be ashamed of.” She smiled. “I asked your daddy to make me a copy of the pendant because I wanted it so bad. I wanted to be part of its history. A little nobody from Louisiana like me part of a jewel that has traveled the world and through time. I just wanted to pretend for a while. So I bought it. For appearances, of course.”

Jessie sighed.
The sake of appearances
...“Yes, of course.”

“And don’t worry. When I die, it’s in my Will that the pendant is returned to your family. Then you can proudly display it again.”

She shook her head confused. “But why did he lie? Why didn’t he tell us?”

Bertha stood and came over to her. “Because you had to learn its importance. You had taken it for granted too long. Come.” She took Jessie’s hand and led her to the sitting room. A shot of lighting lit the large windows.

“Why are you still afraid when you know the truth about the pendant?” she asked.

Jessie stared at her. “I’m sorry?”

“You know it’s not about vengeance, you know what it truly means.” She squeezed her hand. “You are everything you need to be. Never be afraid of your strength. You must decide for yourself what a woman is. Don’t let the world’s ignorance stop you from creating your own definition.

“You have a man who loves you. He has suffered, yes, but it is not your job to heal him or to be the paragon wife and mother to please him. You know inside your heart what he needs and it doesn’t matter if no one else understands.” She grasped Jessie’s other hand and stared into her eyes. “The sapphire is a stone of holy blessings. Are you ready to claim yours?”