A Glitter of Gold, page 27
“So . . . you’re going to stay?”
He grabbed her and hauled her up against him. And then he kissed her. Fierce and unquestioning. His embrace was the sweetest security she had ever known, and she could do nothing but kiss him back and hope that he knew the same. She would stay too.
When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought that I needed to prove to my dad that I could be a success without him. And I thought that success equaled a fancy office at a world-renowned museum.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t care if I ever prove anything to my dad. I just want to be with you.”
“And to find the Catherine.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Well, yes. That too. But more you than the ship.”
He couldn’t have said anything more romantic. “It’s here,” she said.
“Whoa there, kids. None of that business on my boat.” Wallace’s reprimand was loud and filled with humor. He stepped between them and pointed across the water. “Look over there.”
A diver had surfaced, his black cap bobbing in the water, his arm waving back and forth. And then he lifted something out of the water. It was covered in barnacles and remnants from the sea, but if Anne looked through it all, she could see what was there. The blade of a sword.
Maybe it had belonged to Captain Thackery or maybe to one of the pirates. Either way, it was Savannah’s history, pulled from the bottom of the sea and ready to be shared with the world.
Over the next two hours, the divers retrieved more than a dozen artifacts that would all need to be dated and identified. And they reported sightings of hundreds of other pieces yet to be explored. Cannonballs and evidence of a broken mast.
Running his fingertips along a set of glass jars, Carter sighed. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but these appear to be from the right time period. We’ll have to get that confirmed, but . . .” His voice trailed off.
“It’s her,” Anne whispered.
Carter nodded, and Wallace thumped them both on the back. “I didn’t know if we’d ever find the old girl. But I guess it’s true. The good Lord gives, and the good Lord takes away.”
Wallace had said that before when he was talking about his wife, and Anne paused on it again. She really had missed the first truth in that phrase. The good Lord gives. For so long she’d focused on how all those years of her life had been taken away. But she’d missed all of his good gifts. A family who had stood by her side through the worst trials in her life. A business that she loved in a city she adored. And this man by her side. Her heart felt too big, her chest too small, to accommodate all that spilled over.
Maybe there was a single word in some language that could fully cover what she felt in that moment, but she couldn’t come up with an English translation. It was a mixture of gratitude and joy at the restoration of what once had been lost and sadness for the wasted years. It included a decision to put the past to rest and live with hope for tomorrow. Perhaps the best word was simply awe.
Leaning into Carter’s shoulder, she smiled up at him. “Are you happy?”
He didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and kissed her, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Honestly, the Catherine is only the second-best treasure I’ve found this year.”
She frowned at that. All of their time and hard work and he didn’t even care? “Thackery’s sword?”
He shook his head, and the boat rocked him against her until their lips were just a breath apart. “You.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “Me too.”
Yes, the good Lord’s gifts were the sweetest indeed—hope, love, and freedom. And he gave them generously.
Epilogue
Five Months Later
“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your seats in the upright and locked position. Stow your tray tables and any carry-on items. We’ll be landing shortly.”
Anne dug her nails into Carter’s arm. Not that she meant to hurt him. But he’d told her she should hang on when the going was tough.
The landing wasn’t especially turbulent. In fact, the whole flight had been fairly smooth, and she’d never been a bad flier. It wasn’t the landing she feared. It was more what awaited her on the other side of the terminal. Seeing her parents. Seeing her lawyer. The hope that her conviction might be overturned, her felony status removed since Paul’s extradition, conviction, and sentencing months before.
“You doing okay?” He patted her hand and removed her nails from his skin one by one as she nodded. “So, I’ve been thinking about this.”
“About what?” She gasped as the plane took a hard turn and she thought she might fall right into his seat.
“About this trip, about you and me. About how I could distract you.”
She stretched her jaw into a forced yawn so that her ears would pop, but it also forced her to blink. When she opened her eyes, his gaze was focused on her, his lips tight but his dimples wrestling to be released.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Just that you were a little calmer when we flew to Hartford for Thanksgiving.”
True. She’d been the one telling him that their visit with his family wouldn’t be that bad. And it hadn’t been. His mom wasn’t warm, but she was decidedly pleased to see her oldest child. And she’d even hugged Anne when they left the cottage—the eight-bedroom, seven-bathroom “cottage” in the middle of an idyllic snow-covered Connecticut clearing.
His dad hadn’t been quite as welcoming, but he’d managed to say to Carter, “I heard you found that old shipwreck.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s it worth?”
Carter had looked directly at Anne, squeezed her hand, and smiled. “More than anything money could buy.”
The truth was that the college and the preservation society and the museum were still trying to quantify the value of the Catherine. Several figures had been bandied about, but the one that the media seemed most fond of was priceless.
The great lady hadn’t been filled with gold or precious gems. But she had contained numerous artifacts that revealed new findings about life on a merchant ship in the eighteenth century. Collectors would have paid dearly for the engravings in ivory—if the National Maritime Museum hadn’t already begun the work of acquiring them for their collection.
Josiah had spent hours whittling, and Anne couldn’t help but wonder if the engravings were his work. He’d survived the wreck, but his trail had been lost to history. His workmanship, however, would be enjoyed by generations to come.
Between muskets and cannonballs they’d found beads and bits of gold—bounty from the pirates who had taken the ship, some who had probably lost their lives with it.
The media coverage was more than enough to build a bank of investors, who kept the museum doors open for twice the usual number of visitors. And her tours weren’t hurting either. When she pulled out the hilt of Thackery’s sword, a hushed whisper rippled through the crowd. Eyes from other tours they passed glanced in her direction as she told Rebecca and Samuel’s tale. She had more than enough business to stay afloat.
The look on Lydia’s face when Anne had announced she was moving out—moving into a cheaper, more spacious garden-level apartment—had been almost as sweet as the Catherine’s bounty. Bars on the windows couldn’t scare her anymore. Not since she knew true freedom.
Lydia had blustered and thundered and then begged Anne to stay. But nothing could have enticed her to stay in her old apartment. Not when Rebecca’s tale had opened the door for a new chapter in her own story.
Savannah’s pirate-loving citizens had devoured the story and immediately added it to their lexicon. A man shanghaied through the tunnels. A woman who took on the guise of a man and stopped at nothing to bring her brother home. Pirates who didn’t dare fly the Jolly Roger but wreaked havoc nonetheless. And a ship that had gone down right at the mouth of the Savannah River.
It wasn’t until Carter called Aunt Tessie to thank her for helping them both that he discovered the biggest secret of all.
“Well, we Tessies have to do what we can to bring the family together.”
He’d nearly choked on his own tongue.
“You didn’t know, then?” she asked.
“Know what?”
“Oh, Tessie is a family name. Has been for two and a half centuries.”
He’d been speechless. If little Tessie Thackery was the first, then he was a Thackery too. Perhaps he didn’t like the open water quite so much as his long-distant grandfather, but Captain Samuel’s blood ran through his veins. His bravery and selflessness. And Rebecca’s fearless loyalty and love.
He had the Hale name, but he didn’t have to carry his father’s icy disregard for others. He could choose the family traits he wanted to live out. And he chose Rebecca’s and Samuel’s.
The plane leveled out for a moment before making another sharp turn, and Anne grabbed for him again. This time he met her palm with his own, locking their fingers together and holding on tight.
“What are you so nervous about?”
She sighed and stared out the window over the never-ending Pacific. “The last time I was here, I swore I’d never come back.”
“Maybe it’s time to think about your future instead of your past.”
Her lips puckered into a sweet frown. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Maybe it’ll be easier to be here if we replace the old memories with new ones. Better ones.”
“That would probably be a good idea.” She sighed. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged off the nerves that had bundled in his chest and swallowed every hesitation inside. “How about we get engaged?”
She shoved his shoulder and laughed louder than the engines. “We’ve only been together for six months. You can’t be . . .”
But he was entirely serious. And when he pulled the gold engagement ring—another family heirloom passed down from Tessie—out of his pocket, Anne turned silent, her eyes eclipsing her face and her mouth falling open.
“No one else could ever understand this journey or why it mattered so much to me. I love you, Anne Norris—or Bonny.” He lifted one shoulder. “I’m not really picky about your name, but I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to change it to be the same as mine.”
She opened her mouth as though she was going to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she grabbed the ring out of his hand, slid it onto her left ring finger, and held it up in the light, which made the gold glitter. Her lips mouthed one word. Perfect.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She nodded, blinking back tears, and he kissed her.
“See, California doesn’t have to be so bad.”
As the plane touched down on the runway, she snuggled into his side. “It’s shaping up to be one of my favorite places in the world. Or maybe that’s just wherever you are.”
one
Penelope Hunter loved every wedding she’d ever been to. Except her own.
Oh, it wasn’t the colorful tulips in every bouquet and centerpiece or the peach and lavender bridesmaid dresses. They were sunny and bright and perfect for summer nuptials in Georgia.
It wasn’t the chocolate ganache cake with raspberry filling. That had been sublime. She would know—she’d eaten half of the top layer in one sitting. In the middle of her living room floor. Surrounded by the fluffy tulle of her gorgeous dress.
It had been perfect. It had all been exactly as she’d pictured it as a child.
Her wedding had been pure magic. All except for one thing—or, rather, one man. The groom. Who hadn’t bothered to show up.
Who now stood in the entrance to her office beside the prettiest woman Penelope had ever seen.
“Hello.” The woman rushed forward, her smile broad and her eyes filled with the unmistakable glow of a soon-to-be bride. “I’m Emmaline Adams. We spoke on the phone.” Emmaline reached out her hand, and Penelope had no choice but to shake it, even though her gaze never left the man trailing behind.
Emmaline followed the direction of her eyes and pointed with her chin. “This is my fiancé, Winston St. Cloud.”
Oh, no need for introductions. The only problem was Penelope wasn’t sure if Emmaline was supposed to know that. She didn’t know how much Winston had told Emmaline about their past, about the previous wedding he helped plan.
All right, that wasn’t entirely fair. He hadn’t done a single thing to help plan that wedding.
Still, Penelope couldn’t read his face beyond the surprise written across his raised eyebrows and unblinking eyes. He clearly hadn’t known he’d run into her here. And she had no desire to reveal their history thirty seconds after meeting the poor bride.
Well, she did want to say just what she thought of Winston. But that was no way to keep a job she loved.
Just because her wedding had been an unmitigated disaster didn’t mean she would ever do anything to jeopardize other marriages she helped launch.
“Winston.” She nodded her head in his direction, but she couldn’t force herself to reach out to shake his hand. He didn’t seem to mind, as rigid as a statue.
Emmaline’s smile began to dim, in fragments first and then all at once. “Do you . . .?”
Penelope put on her very best smile and ushered the other woman deeper into the office. “We used to be friends. A while ago.” Three years, one month, and four days, to be exact. Not that she was keeping count. And technically, she’d seen him three days after that. He’d wanted to apologize. She’d wanted to shove his grandmother’s two-carat diamond ring up his nose. But that’s not what Southern ladies did. So she’d pulled the rock off her finger and placed it in his open palm.
And now Emmaline Adams was wearing it.
Eyes closed, Penelope took a deep breath. She could be civil. More than that, she could be professional. She was completely over Winston St. Cloud. She rarely thought of him anymore. Except in those fleeting moments when she wondered if she’d missed her last chance.
Her smile still pasted in place, she opened her eyes just as Winston opened his mouth.
“How have you been?” His voice was still deep, but it held a note of uncertainty.
“Fine. Great, really. Everything’s going really well.” She stood up a little straighter. That had sounded pretty believable. Good. It was the truth.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
Her eyes darted around her office before it clicked that he meant he hadn’t known she worked at the Savannah River Hall. “I’m sure you didn’t.” What else could she say? He wouldn’t have sought her out. He wouldn’t have come looking for her. She’d only started as the event manager at the Hall after their would-have-been wedding.
Shaking off every memory and trace of bitterness, Penelope looked directly at Emmaline. “So . . . let me show you around.”
Emmaline nodded eagerly, grabbing Winston’s hand. She was either unaware of the strain in their interaction or willing to overlook it. Penelope would too.
Waving her hand toward the door of her office, she ushered them into the event space. “This is such a unique venue—right on River Street and in the heart of Savannah’s history.” She marched down the short hallway that connected her office to the venue and then stepped out of the way as she swung the door open.
Emmaline’s mouth dropped open as she stepped into the cavernous room that had been decorated for the next day’s event. “This is . . . so much bigger than the pictures. Winston, look.”
He nodded.
Penelope strolled in behind them, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she pointed out a few of her favorite features of the room. “We can customize décor to your theme, like the Hollywood letters across the front, or we can do something gentle and feminine. The cement floors can be dressed up or down, and we have all the furniture pieces you’ll need—up to twenty round tables—plus a dance floor. If you can get Winston out on it, that is.” She chomped into her bottom lip and shook her head quickly. She should not have said that.
Emmaline’s eyebrows rose, but a sweet smile danced across her lips. “Oh, we’re taking lessons.”
Of course they were.
Jealousy slammed into the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t that she wanted Winston back or that she wished she were Emmaline. It was just that Winston had refused to take even a single dancing class with her every time she asked.
She’d missed that and a dozen other warning signs that he didn’t truly love her. At least not in the way he loved Emmaline. That was more than clear as he squeezed his fiancée’s hand and stared into her eyes.
The phone in her pocket rang, and Penelope snatched it free. Anabelle Haywood, president of the Ladies’ Historical League of Savannah. Who was just about to confirm a weeklong charity event at the Hall.
Penelope gave Emmaline a brief smile. “Take your time and look around. I’ll be just a moment.”
Emmaline nodded as she sashayed farther into the room, and Penelope scooted back toward her office. “Mrs. Haywood. How can I help you?”
“Well, I heard the most awful rumor today, and I just had to call and see if there was an ounce of truth to it.”
Penelope’s stomach lurched, and she leaned against the ancient brick wall, her throat dry and her tongue thick in a split second. “Why, I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It’s about that man—your friend, the one running for sheriff.”
“Tucker?” That didn’t make any sense. There weren’t any rumors floating around town about him. In fact, he was actively sequestering himself to keep any from sprouting up. Work, home, and campaign events only. Especially after he accidentally got his name on the ballot for the special election in the first place.
“Do you have more than one friend running for office?” Anabelle asked.
