by Nora Roberts
“Never can wait for his pie. Go on and settle in, then, I’ll bring it along shortly.”
Questions were tripping over her tongue, but her mother had drummed manners into her. “I’ll help you clear, Mrs. Cunningham.”
“Oh, there’s no need.”
“Please, I’d like to help.”
Mary shot Jack an arched look as everyone got to their feet. “The one you married never offered to clear a dish, to my recollection.”
While the dishes were seen to, Rebecca was treated to a full rundown of Jack’s ex-wife. She’d been beautiful, brainy and blond. An American lawyer who, according to Mary, worried more about her career than hearth and home. They’d taken their time marrying and had divorced, in her opinion, in a finger snap and without even the heart for battling over it.
Rebecca made appropriate noises and filed the information away. She was interested; in fact, she was dying to know everything. But she couldn’t juggle the matter in her brain with thoughts of the Fates.
She wheeled in the dessert tray herself and held back the barrage of questions that raced through her mind.
“This one’s been raised right,” Mary said with approval. “Your mother must be a fine woman.”
“She is, thank you.”
“Now, if the two of you don’t finish what you’ve started and give this poor child the rest of it, I’ll do it myself.”
“Connections,” Jack said. “We’ve talked about them, haven’t we, Rebecca?”
“We have.”
“The little shop in Bath was called Browne’s. It was established in the early eighteen hundreds and catered, for a number of years, to the gentry who came to Bath for the waters. Often, its clientele were those who needed to liquidate possessions into cash, discreetly. So its stock was varied and often unique. While discreet, it was a carefully run business, and records were meticulously kept. According to them, in the summer of 1883, a certain Lord Barlow sold a number of trinkets and artifacts to Browne’s. Among them was a small silver statue, Grecian style, of a woman holding a pair of scissors.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God.”
“My grandfather was proprietor of Browne’s when Wyley made his last crossing,” Steven continued. “I have no way of knowing if he’d been in touch with my grandfather regarding the Fate. I first learned of them when I was a young man, enthusiastically studying my trade. I was interested in the legend of the statue and whether or not the one Browne’s had purchased so long before had been authentic. When I heard that Wyley had owned one of the set, and had, by all accounts, taken it with him on the ship, I was more fascinated.”
“But even if the statue Browne’s had bought was authentic,” Jack put in, “its value was diminished as the first Fate was, by all accounts, lost along with Wyley. So what was left was an intriguing connection to another Lusitania passenger, and a piece of a legend.”
“Was it real? Where is it now?” Rebecca demanded.
“My mother never tires of family history.” Rather than answering, Jack rose to put another log on the parlor fire. “I was raised on it, and the sinking of the Lusitania, the legend of the Fates were part of all that. And, I came by my own interest in antiques naturally,” he added, laying a hand on Steven’s shoulder. “When Anita mentioned the Fates, it stirred my interest in them again, enough that I phoned my mother and asked her to confirm the stories she’d told me. Enough for me to arrange for an overdue visit here, with a stop in Cobh to check out Sullivan and pay my respects to Felix Greenfield.”
He crossed to a satinwood display cabinet, opened it. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered the Sullivans were just one more connection, to this.”
He turned and held up the third Fate.
“It’s here.” Though her legs felt like rubber, Rebecca rose. “It’s been here all along.”
“Where it’s been,” he said as he held it out for her, “since Granddad closed the doors of Browne’s twenty-six years ago.”
She held it in her cupped hand, testing the weight, studying the cool, almost sorrowful silver face. Gently, she ran her thumb over the shallow notch in the right corner of the base. Where, Rebecca knew, Atropus would link with Lachesis.
“Another thread, another circle. What will you do now?”
“Now, I take it with me back to New York, negotiate with Cleo Toliver for hers, then figure out how to get yours back from Anita.”
“It’s good you remember the first is mine.” She gave the statue back to him. “I’ll be going to New York as well.”
“You’ll be going back to Cobh,” he corrected. “And staying an ocean away from Anita.”
She angled her head. “I’ll be going to New York, with you, or on my own, for I’m damned if you or my brothers will finish this off without me. You’d best resign yourself, Jack, that I won’t be tucked in a corner to wait while the men do the work. I pull my own weight.”
“There now.” Mary cut her husband a second slice of pie. “What did I tell you? I like this one much better than the one you married, Jack. Sit down and finish your pie, Rebecca. Of course you’re going with him to New York.”
Her expression was smug as Rebecca turned away and sat. She forked up a bite of pie. “Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham. I wonder if I should stop in Dublin and buy some clothes for the trip, or wait and buy some things in New York. I’ve only packed one change of clothes.”
“Oh, I’d wait if you can. You’ll have such a fine time shopping in New York, won’t you?”
“It’s not a damn vacation,” Jack snapped.
“Don’t interrupt your Gram,” Rebecca said mildly.
“Let it go, boy.” Steven waved a hand. “You’re outnumbered.”
Fifteen
MALACHI knew exactly how he would handle Tia, from his initial greeting, to his overall tone of approach. He would apologize again, of course. There was no question about that. And he would use all the charm and persuasion at his disposal to soften her stance toward him.
He owed her; there was no question of that either. For the financial backing, but more, much more, for the help she’d given his brother.
That he could repay by keeping their association completely professional, friendly but reserved. He thought he understood her well enough to know that was the way she’d prefer it.
Once they were on the proper footing again, they would get down to business.
He and Gideon would move into a hotel. Naturally they couldn’t continue to impose on her privacy. But he hoped he could convince her to allow the Toliver woman to stay. In that way, he’d be assured they were both safe. And, almost as important, that they were out of his way.
A bit worn from the trip, he knocked briskly on her apartment door. And hoped her sense of hospitality would run to a cold beer.
Then she opened the door, and he forgot the beer and his carefully outlined approach.
“You’ve cut your hair.” Without thinking, he reached out to dance his fingers over the short ends of it. “Just look at you.”
She didn’t jerk back. That was the willpower she’d been working on for hours. But she stepped back, stiffly. “Come in, Malachi. Set your bags down,” she invited. “I hope your flight went well.”
“It was fine. It suits you, you know. The hair. You look wonderful. I missed seeing you, Tia.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“I would, please. I’m sorry, I haven’t even thanked you for fronting me the means to fly over.”
“It’s business.” She turned and walked into the kitchen.
“You’ve changed more than your hair.”
“Maybe.” Assuming he’d prefer a beer, as his brother did, she pulled one out of the refrigerator, shifted to get a glass from the cupboard. “Maybe I’ve had to.”
“I’m sorry, Tia, for the way I handled things.”
Proud of herself, she popped the top of the beer and poured it into the glass without the slightest tremor in her hand. “The way you handled me, you mean.”
/> “Yes. I could make excuses for it.” He took the glass she held out to him. Waited for her gaze to meet and hold his. “I could even make you accept them, but I won’t bother. I regret lying to you more than I can tell you.”
“There’s no point in hashing it over at this stage.” She started to walk back into the living room and stopped when he stepped over to block her.
“It wasn’t all a lie.”
Though her color came up, her voice was cool and brisk. “There’s no point in discussing that either. We have a mutual interest, and a mutual claim, on a particular piece of art. I intend to use my resources, and yours, to get it back. That’s all there is to discuss.”
“You’re making it easier on me.”
“Oh?” She cocked her head to what she hoped was a sarcastic angle. “How?”
“By not being vulnerable, I don’t have to worry so much about bruising you.”
“I had thin skin once. That doesn’t seem to be one of my problems anymore. Now, house rules.” This time she skirted quickly around him and began to breathe easier as soon as she had some distance. “No smoking in the apartment. You can use the terrace or, as Gideon is just now, the roof. He and Cleo had a good case of cabin fever working up, so I suggested they use the roof for a while. It’s not as confining as the terrace, and it’s safe.”
He started to tell her he and his brother would go to a hotel, then changed his mind. If she wasn’t bothered, why should he be?
“I quit smoking two years ago, so it’s not a problem for me.”
“Good, you’ll live longer. You clean up after yourself, and that includes dishes, laundry, papers, whatever. I like a tidy space. You’ll have to sleep on the couch, as Gideon and Cleo have the spare bed. That means you’ll have to be prepared to get up at a reasonable hour in the morning.”
Because she was starting to sound more like Tia, he began to enjoy himself and sat on the arm of the couch. “What’s reasonable?”
“Seven.”
“Ouch.”
“You and Gideon will have to work out a shower schedule. You’ll have use of the small bathroom. Cleo can share mine, but it and my bedroom are off limits to you and your brother. Clear enough?”
“Crystal, darling.”
“I’m keeping a record of expenses. The flight, of course, and food, any other transportation. You will pay me back.”
That irritated him enough to have him push to his feet. “We fully intend to pay you back. We’re not leeches. I can get a bank loan and clear it up straightaway.”
Feeling small, she turned away. “That’s not necessary. I’m angry with you. I can’t help it.”
“Tia—”
“Don’t.” Alerted by the gentle tone, she whirled back. “Don’t soothe me. I can be angry with you and do what needs to be done. I’m very good at working around unstable emotions. Now, do you cook?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “After a fashion.”
“Good, Cleo doesn’t. That leaves you, Gideon, me and takeout. Now we can—” She broke off, glancing over as she heard the key in the lock.
Cleo came in first, looking a bit sweaty, outrageously sexy and suspiciously rumpled. Her smile was slow and considering as she sized up Malachi. “So, this must be big brother.”
“Mal.” Gideon strode in behind her, and the two men caught each other in a hard, unself-conscious hug. “It’s good to see you. We’ve got a fucking mess on our hands.”
It took thirty minutes, and another beer, to bring him up to date.
“I don’t see what business this Burdett has sticking his nose in it.” Malachi brooded into his second beer, then got up to pace. “It just adds another complication.”
“If he hadn’t stuck his nose in, I wouldn’t know my phones are tapped, would I?” Tia rose, picked up the glass Malachi had set down and put a coaster under it.
“He says they’re tapped.”
“Why would he make it up? In any case, I went to see my father this morning and asked him about Jack. My father confirms who he is, and that he’s a serious collector. And the police detective vouched for him.”
“You’re just pissed off because there’s another guy in the mix.” Cleo fluttered her lashes and took a sip of Gideon’s beer when Malachi turned to scowl at her. “It’s the testosterone thing, and nobody blames you for it. Tia, you got any cookies in here?”
“Um, I think I have some sugarless wafers.”
“Honey, we really need to talk. Life should never be about sugarless wafers. Now, before you climb up my ass,” she said to Malachi, “remember we’ve had a little more time to think about Burdett and his place in all this. He knows Anita,” she continued, ticking off the points on her fingers. “He knows security, and he’s interested in the Fates. We hope to sell mine, and the third when we get it. The way I see it, you’ve got two potential buyers now instead of one. We can have our own private auction.”
“I might not like having another player in the game,” Gideon put in, “but it makes sense, Mal. Anita’s been tracking us right along. Could be this Burdett helps us with that end. And Tia’s father says how he’s got money, so we sell to him. I’d rather that than have any more dealings with that bitch Anita. Besides all this, I called Ma from the pay phone down the street to check in, and she’s met him. She trusts him, and that’s enough for me.”
“I’ll decide that for myself. You said he left you a business card, Tia?” Malachi drummed his fingers on his thigh as he worked out the details in his mind. “I’ll ring him up and have a meeting with him, face-to-face. And if he’s such a bloody security expert, he can fix these damn phones so we’re not running down to a phone box every time we turn around.”
“You need some carbs,” Cleo decided. “You got carbs around here, right?”
“Ah . . .” Tia glanced nervously toward her kitchen. “Yes, I—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll root around. I get pissy when my carbs are low,” she said sympathetically to Malachi.
“I’m not being pissy.”
She unfolded herself and walked over to pinch his cheeks. “Since we’re the ones you’re pissing on, handsome, we should know. You Sullivans don’t travel very well. Slick there was ragged out when we got here, too. You’re pretty, aren’t you?” She cocked her head. “You guys have some superior DNA.”
She teased a laugh out of him. “You’re quite the package, aren’t you?”
“Damn right. Hey, Tia, let’s just order some pizza. Couple larges with the works ought to do it.”
“I don’t really eat—” She broke off when Cleo turned and gaped at her.
“If you’re about to tell me you don’t eat pizza, I’m getting a gun and putting you out of your misery.”
It didn’t seem the time to discuss fat grams, or the fact that she suspected she might be allergic to tomato sauce. “If the phones are tapped and I order two large pizzas, isn’t that going to seem strange to whoever’s listening since I’m supposed to be here alone?”
“So, they’ll think you’re a greedy pig. Let’s live dangerously.”
“And besides, I have a two o’clock lunch appointment, which I should be leaving for right now.”
“Who are you meeting?” Malachi asked as she walked into the bedroom. “Tia?”
“Bedroom’s off limits,” Gideon muttered before his brother could follow. “She’s very strict about it.”
“She’s not acting like herself.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and frowned at the bedroom door. “I don’t know as I like it.”
“Figuring on what’s been going on around here the past couple of days, you could cut her a break. She took us in,” Cleo reminded him. “She sure as hell didn’t have to. You messed with her head. Hold on.” She held up a hand when he spun around and snarled. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t have played it the same way, but when you’ve already got low-self-esteem issues, having a guy fuck with you can really screw you up.”
“That’s quite an analysis in a short o
rder.”
“You dance naked for a few months, you learn a lot about people.” She shrugged. “We’re going to like each other fine after we get to know each other better, sweetheart. I already like your baby brother, and your taste in women,” she added, nodding toward the bedroom door.
“Later you can explain to me how dancing naked turns you into a psychologist, but for now . . .” Malachi banged a fist on the
