He started the guided tour at ground level, shining his light behind the metal stairs that led up to the tower. Dark stains remained on the floor, that was evidence of Mr. Julian Styles’ death the previous October. The man had been shot and left there to die. His cousin Jo had found him and ended up being shot as well. Jackson left that particular commentary out of his speech. Lori was only four, after all.
At one time, Jackson would have said Jo was the least brave. But he’d changed his tune after learning the ordeals she’d endured of her childhood. He’d learned a lot about his cousins since his father’s death.
A thought struck Jackson. Had that been Victor’s intention in creating that outlandish codicil to his will? Forcing Jackson and his cousins into making the manor house their joint home for an entire year to know one another better? He grimaced, then relaxed. It was exactly the kind of thing his controlling father would command. He might even admit he was pleasantly surprised and… glad. But why had Victor wanted each of them married within a year? It was even more ridiculous, since Victor was directly responsible for breaking up Jackson’s marriage to Charity.
All right, in hindsight, perhaps his father had been onto something in that instance.
“What’s that black stuff?” Lori’s tiny voice penetrated his dark musings. She’d moved closer and he quickly snatched her back.
“A real life nightmare,” he said, depositing her in her mother’s arms, almost groaning at her startled expression.
Deidre set Lori on her feet, claiming her hand.
Huffing out a disgusted breath, he said, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you. Come on. There are better things to see.” He ushered his guests up the metal stairs to check out the rest of the space before he padlocked the lighthouse shut to any other young adventurers. He had a feeling once Lori Spence overcame that timid nature of hers, she would be quite the handful. And would be a joy to witness.
~~~
By the time Jackson led them out of the lighthouse, bolted the door shut, and led them away from Serpent’s Point—aptly named in Deidre’s estimation—Lori was dragging. Before Deidre could protest, Jackson swung Lori up for a ride on his shoulders. Her childish squeals turned a few smiling faces in their direction.
Guilt nagged at Deidre. Jackson deserved the truth of Lori’s true parentage. But Deidre was not about to give him the news with the very attentive Lori present.
She addressed Lori. “Do you think you might be too tired for the art’s fair right now, darling?” They had reached the middle of the forest path, and Lori’s dismay practically stirred the needles on the tall pines.
“What? No! Mrs. Phillips said there was to be a puppet show.” Her little voice quivered.
“There will be other days,” Jackson said in a neutral tone. Clearly, he was on Lori’s side.
Deidre glanced up. A damp track was already easing down Lori’s cheek. “No. That’s all right. You can sleep late tomorrow. Let’s see what time the puppet show is.”
“Thank you,” Lori said softly, laying more guilt at Deidre’s feet.
They reached Main Street and had to squeeze through the horde to reach Church Road. “Goodness. Where did all these people come from?” Deidre was shocked at the crowds as they made their way to the north. Booths lined North Church Road. Jackson had explained earlier that there was no use trying to drive anywhere because there would be too many people. He hadn’t been joking.
Several tents designated with activities for children included wagon rides, pony rides, and a new fad—inflatable, tossable beach balls.
Open-ended booths of artists’ creations—watercolors, oils, pastels, charcoal drawings—lined the street. Several artists were doing on-the-spot caricatures, and a booth of young Girl Scouts were selling cookies. Jackson said he just could not resist: he bought and opened a box right there!
At the end of the street, a group of musicians played a lively swing tune for groups of dancers who were taking advantage.
“Mama,” Lori whispered.
Deidre barely heard her over the hum. “What darling?”
“Who is that?” Lori was pointing at a monstrously large person donned completely in black but for his red shorts with two white buttons, overlarge white gloves to represent his hands and white shoes. Beside him stood another person, clearly depicting the same but as a female. She wore a red and white polka dot skirt, and a red, perky little hat situated between her large, round black ears. White-heeled pumps and white gloves completed the picture. They were quite frightening really.
“That’s Mickey and Minnie Mouse,” Jackson answered. “And look.” He pointed to another figure who was much less terrifying: a man in blue tights with a red cape and boots. There was a large “S” stenciled on his chest.
Neither Lori nor Deidre responded. Having television and going to the cinema were rare occasions for the Spence household.
“It’s Superman,” Jackson finished.
“Who is Superman?” Lori wanted to know.
“A man who is super,” Jackson returned, grinning.
Deidre glanced over at him and was stunned to see cookie crumbs in Jackson’s dark hair. A sudden, surprising urge to laugh rumbled through her. When was the last time she’d felt joy at anything? The sun, the people, the noise, all faded away. Everything.
All except this man with her daughter on his shoulders. How was it possible to feel these strange, yet volatile emotions surging through her, especially about this particular man?
“Hello, Jackson.”
The low, stately voice startled Deidre and pulled her back from the embarrassing train track upon which her imagination had embarked and took off on with the speed of a locomotive. The crowd noise, the smells of popcorn and cotton candy saturated the air. She turned slowly and met the shrewd eyes of an older man. Shock slashed across his face and then quickly disappeared. So, he’d known her sister.
His eyes cut to Lori then back to Jackson. “Who’s the child?”
Deidre bristled at his proprietary manner and drew herself up. Who did he think he was? Jackson stiffened beside her. She glanced over and was mollified by his hardened gaze. Clearly, Jackson did not like this man. “Allow me to introduce Mrs. Deidre Spence and her daughter Lori,” he said.
The older man’s shock turned palpable. “Deidre!” he choked out.
Deidre was tempted to laugh, but there was something about this person that… frightened her.
“Charity’s twin sister. Ladies, this is Simon Guthrie, Sr., attorney at law. He handles the Montgomery estate and business interests,” Jackson said. “Right now.”
Deidre caught Jackson’s underlying threat. That last phrase had been a deliberate ploy to provoke the man. She dug through her purse to avoid the older man’s outstretched hand. “How nice to meet you, Mr. Guthrie.” She spoke to the inside of her back and located a stick of candy then handed it to Lori. “Here you are, darling.”
Lori’s eyes widened. She was not normally allowed candy. Certainly not so close to dinnertime. She accepted it tentatively, as if it might be snatched away. “Thank you, Mama,” she murmured.
“Where are you from, Mrs. Spence?” Mr. Guthrie asked.
“I have an apartment in Queens.” She made a show of looking around. “But this island is a very nice place.”
“Charity never mentioned a sister,” the man said.
“So I’ve learned,” she said with an overbright smile.
With a barely perceptible flinch, he turned to Jackson. “Why don’t you give me a call, son? One day next week will work with my schedule.”
“How convenient,” Jackson returned, his expression hard as carved stone. “I’ll check my calendar. If you haven’t heard, Reverend Knox was mur—”
“Unexpectedly passed away,” Deidre interrupted smoothly, with a quick look at Lori.
Mr. Guthrie’s expression went blank. “So I’d heard,” he said. His gaze narrowed on Jackson. “You call m
e as soon as possible, Jackson. I absolutely insist.”
The air in the hot July day shifted to taut and cool. Deidre shivered.
Jackson’s gaze never wavered from the older man. “Perhaps later today. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Simon. We have a date with some puppets.” Jackson took Deidre’s hand and led her away.
She had a lot of questions. None, of course, that could be asked in front of Lori.
~~~
Jackson followed Deidre into the cottage carrying a sleeping Lori. The minute they stepped across the threshold, Lori’s eyes popped open, however, and every ounce of sugar she’d consumed acted like a jolt of electricity.
Mrs. Phillips walked in from the kitchen to greet them.
“Lori, I want you to lie down for a little bit,” Deidre told her.
Her bottom lip poked out, but Mrs. Phillips took charge, urging Lori down the hallway toward the stairs.
“I’ll run down to the sheriff’s office and give Simon a call.” Jackson said. But he didn’t move. He stood rooted to the floor, staring at Deidre. He didn’t remember moving, but next moment he found himself dropping a kiss on her luscious lips. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders and his hands gently squeezed her waist. Surprised by his own behavior, he remembered that this wasn’t the time or the place. A child and a very real chaperone were only seconds away and could walk in on them any moment. Slowly, he pulled away.
Her fingers flew to her mouth, her eyes fastened on his. She was no Charity Montgomery. There was not a manipulative bone in this woman’s body. This beautiful, genuine, sweet, fascinating woman.
“I’d better hurry. I’ll come for you and Lori after I take care of Guthrie.” His voice came out in a husky gravel he’d never before heard come from his own mouth. Making himself leave was the hardest thing he’d done in an age.
Halfway down the road, Jackson’s anger resurged and he changed direction, deciding instead to have it out with the old man in person. He was infuriated at being summoned like a recalcitrant lad before the headmaster.
Guthrie’s summer home was located off of Apple Street, closer to the forest near the home of Wyn’s parents. They ran the island’s Dry Goods Emporium. Mrs. Smith was outside and waved. He waved back to her but didn’t stop to talk.
Another half mile up the hill, he stormed through the set of iron gates at the entrance to the Guthrie compound. The gates, like old man Guthrie himself, were outrageous on an island like Montgomery. What other purpose were they than for pure ego? The very idea left Jackson with more questions than answers. He walked up the wide stone steps that led to the double front doors.
The knocker was a solid brass ring trapped in the mouth of a wild bear. Jackson lifted the ring and let it drop. The door opened almost immediately by a man who was older than the elder Simon. Jackson was led through to an old-fashioned drawing room. Even the Claremonts’ manor house had done away with such formality when his late mother had taken to her bed.
“Brandy?” Simon, Sr. asked.
Jackson hadn’t even seen him in the corner. “No, thanks. You want to tell me exactly what is behind this summons?”
“All right.” Simon finished pouring out a glass for himself then turned, facing Jackson. “That woman you were with today…”
His tone set Jackson’s teeth on edge. “What about her?” he bit out.
“Your father wouldn’t approve.”
Jackson gave a low laugh. “Well, my father’s not around, is he?” he said softly.
“Jackson don’t be difficult,” Simon snapped. “Her sister was a gold-digging opportunist. Who is to say this… this Deidre isn’t cut from the same cloth? I’m trying to help you here.”
Jackson stuffed his fist in his pocket to keep himself from swinging. “In what capacity, may I ask?”
“You stand to inherit a lot of money. Does that not concern you in the least?”
“What’s in this for you, Simon? Do you keep your retainership if my cousins and I don’t inherit? Is that it? Or are you afraid when we do inherit we’ll take our business elsewhere?”
Guthrie’s eyes could have frozen the late July day with their glacial glint.
A rush of breath escaped Jackson. “Simon, Deidre Spence doesn’t have a duplicitous bone in her body.” He moved to the window, staring out to the open channel. “Charity is dead.” He turned and faced the old man. “If you have nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
Simon didn’t say anything and Jackson let himself out. When he reached the foyer, he nearly ran headlong into Junior, who was just coming in.
“What are you doing here?” Junior demanded.
“Answering a summons. Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”
13
Junior strode into the old fashioned dining room of the family’s summer home. Why had Jackson been there?
“You’re late,” his father said.
Junior took his seat at the table. “Why was Jackson here?”
His father answered with a question. “Did you know Charity Montgomery had a twin sister?”
Twin? “I… did not.” Junior said slowly.
“Apparently, she’s married and has a child. I ran into Jackson at the arts fair.”
“I wonder how Jackson and this woman who claims to be Charity’s sister met,” Junior said.
“Twin sister. And if you saw her, you would see there is no question of the fact. An interesting notion on how Jackson met her, isn’t it? She said she has an apartment in Queens. As far as I’m aware, even Victor hadn’t known Charity had a sister, let alone she was a twin.”
Junior’s mind rioted with possibilities. Were Charity and her twin running their blackmailing schemes as a partnership? His insides clenched. “I need a drink.”
His eyes narrowed on Junior. “You mind yourself, son. You’re too old for me to keep bailing you out of trouble.”
The butler set a glass of brandy before Junior at the same time the familiar rage roared through him. He grasped the tumbler, his fingers tightening around it. It was a wonder the glass didn’t shatter. “Don’t be ridiculous, Father. What on earth do I need with Charity-the-tramp’s sister?” He surprised himself with the lightness of his tone, though he worried his father had seen the glass tremble slightly in his hold.
In any event, a little jaunt to Queens would go far in soothing Junior’s qualms.
14
The day was long. Deidre was tempted to put a halt to it, but Lori’s excited anticipation for the fireworks display stopped Deidre from voicing the possibility. Her timid child’s rare exuberance was a treat. Deidre’s insistence that Lori lie down for a short while was clearly a lost cause. While they were at the fair, the unusual amount of sugar her daughter had consumed seemed to have affected her adversely, to the point that at times, Lori had been dancing and running circles around the couples on the pavement. Other children had been similarly afflicted. Deidre had been torn between surprise and pride as Lori’s childish laughter reached deep inside her heart.
Lori’s antics had also prevented Deidre from asking Jackson even a single question about Mr. Guthrie. She had been too preoccupied with all the hoopla while also trying to keep an eye on Lori. Then Jackson had carried in her sleeping child and dashed out the door to make his phone call to the mysterious Mr. Guthrie.
Lori wasn’t about to rest a minute longer; her excitement was just too much to succumb to a proper rest.
As promised, Jackson appeared back within the hour. He and Deidre went on the hunt for a blanket to carry out to Serpent’s Point.
“There must be an old quilt somewhere around here,” Jackson said.
Deidre didn’t remember seeing anything in Reverend Knox’s room, or anywhere else in the cottage.
“Ruth’s room is pretty sparse, too,” Mrs. Phillips said. “Perhaps there is something in the other girl’s room?”
Jackson frowned. “Penelope’s?”
“That is the only other room,” Deidre
said. An odd sensation came over her, but she brushed it off and led the way up the stairs with Jackson on her heels. She turned the knob on the first door off the top of the staircase. It turned easier this time, but she hesitated at stepping over the threshold.
Jackson apparently had no such compunction and gently pushed past her. “It looks like no one has set foot in here since 1924.” He spoke as if spellbound.
Deidre watched him prowl the room with a growing sense of unease. She crossed her arms over her middle. “Did you love her?”
“We were just kids. She was sweet compared to Charity’s brash forthrightness—” He stopped and Deidre watched the heat crawl up his neck. “I’m sorry. I seem to regularly forget she was your sister. It’s just that… your personalities are so… different, I forget the physical similarities.”
That was a bit of a relief, actually. A smile touched Deidre, leaving her to wonder when she’d decided this man couldn’t have killed her sister. “I don’t quite know how to explain this, Jackson, but there was something… well, not quite right with Charity. Some mental deficiency. Nothing that anything was diagnosed that I can recall. I don’t think she did things to deliberately hurt others. I think that… well, she just couldn’t seem to help it.” Her words ended on almost as whisper. She’d never confessed her suspicions to another human being.
He stalked over, rested his hands on her upper arms. He shook her lightly, almost with affection. “You are the most generous soul I’ve ever met, Deidre Spence.” In a quick instant, his lips came down on hers.
There was no opportunity to object or dodge his intention, and when the spontaneous sensations whorled through her, she found herself melding into him, squelching any notion of outrage or indignation or escape. Slowly, he broke away.
A Dagger Cuts Deep Page 7
