The Topaz Brooch

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  “I know, sweetheart. I’m letting you know this isn’t just about sex. I’m not going anywhere. Now, let’s get you naked so you can shower.”

  “I have on petticoats and a chemise, so my modesty is protected.”

  “Damn.” His eyes twinkled as he gathered the bottom of her dress and inched it up over her head. Then he folded it and placed the gown on the bed. “What’s next?”

  She turned. “Unhook the necklace and unlace me.” His knuckles brushed against her skin as he unhooked the necklace, set it on the dresser with the tiara, then untied the stays. As soon as she was free of the restrictive corset, she inhaled and exhaled dramatically. “God, that feels so good.”

  “I don’t see how you managed to breathe.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” She tossed the corset on the bed with the dress and returned to the bathroom. “If I’m not out in an hour, you probably should check on me. As soon as that hot water hits my head, I might believe I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  “I know the feeling. Enjoy.”

  She closed the door but didn’t lock it.

  After removing her petticoat and chemise, she checked out the shampoo, soap, and razor in the shower. On the counter, a stainless-steel tray held a few personal products, including individually wrapped toothbrushes, like the one Remy gave her while they were at Jackson’s headquarters.

  Rick’s Dopp kit was unzipped and packed with an array of Oribe skin and hair products and a bottle of Silver Pearl Eau de Parfum. She opened it and sniffed. Hmm—notes of leather and a bamboo blend with green fig leaf—perfect for the man who appreciated fashion and wanted a crisp, modern scent. But the product that took up the most space in the leather kit was an unopened box of condoms.

  She wasn’t surprised to find the box, but she was surprised to find it unopened.

  She turned on the shower, waited till the temperature was hot enough to unkink her muscles, and stepped in, sighing immediately. Then she had a mental image of Rick joining her in the shower. She glanced toward the door. Had she left it unlocked, hoping he would?

  Didn’t she just tell him sex wasn’t going to happen?

  Yeah, damn it, she did. And now she wanted him in here making love to her. But fantasizing was harmless, right? Just because she thought about it didn’t mean she wanted it to happen. How many times had her therapist told her that? Plenty.

  After washing her hair and shaving her legs and underarms, she stood under the stream with her hands braced against the tile while she indulged in the luxurious pulsating hot water raining down on her, not too soft and not too hard.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Do you need anything?” Rick asked.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Come on in.

  When he knocked again a while later, she reluctantly turned off the water. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Take your time.”

  “Then stop bothering me!”

  He huffed out a noisy breath, likely meant to be a laugh. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  She used one of the disposable toothbrushes, then moisturized head to toe before towel-drying her hair. For the first time in weeks, she felt almost normal again—until she looked closely at her neck. The bruises had almost completely faded, but the memory had not. She slammed her fists on the granite vanity top.

  I will not let what happened on Barataria destroy me.

  A choked sob escaped before she took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly let it out. She had to keep her shit together until she got home. Then she could collapse into a puddle of tears. But not yet.

  A terrycloth, one-size-fits-all robe hung on the back of the door. She grabbed it and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

  Calm down. You can’t go downstairs like this.

  She used every yoga breathing technique she knew while watching her face go through a series of emotions—none attractive—until her badassery was locked back in place.

  When she walked out into the bedroom, Rick was gone, and on the bed with her folded dress was an outfit: white cami, black yoga pants, panties, and a pink sweat-wicking tank top. Just as she finished dressing, Rick—again?—knocked on the door.

  She dug way down deep for composure she wasn’t sure she had. “Come in.”

  He stopped on the threshold, and his dark brows gathered over his stare. “You look…fantastic. Not that you didn’t look great before. But now you look—I don’t know—relaxed. How about a cup of coffee?”

  She combed through her wet hair with a shaky hand. “That would be great.”

  He held up a steaming cup. “If I remember right, you drink it black.”

  His voice grew quieter, although no less intense than a second ago, and damn it, she had to eighty-six the stupid tears that were welling up again.

  “Except for chicory coffee, and then I add cream if it’s available.”

  “Good to know.”

  He handed over the cup, brushing her knuckles as the mug passed from his hand to hers, and her hand trembled so much that she almost spilled the coffee.

  “I’m going to shower. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for everything. I didn’t show my appreciation before, but I’m very grateful for everything you did to bring me home.”

  He touched his cheek where her lips had been, then slid his fingers to his mouth and puckered as if moving her kiss to where he wanted it. “You’re welcome, babe.” She kissed his other cheek, and he moved that one to his lips too. “Put the next kiss where it belongs, will ya, please? And save me the trouble of moving it.”

  She laughed. “With a move like that, you probably have a hat trick up your sleeve too.”

  “I’ll try that one later. I need to space out my moves for an optimum dazzling effect.”

  “I’ll hold my breath in suspense.” She laughed again, thinking about the kinds of moves she hadn’t seen. There you go again. You can’t stop fantasizing about him. “Thanks for the razor.”

  There was a flash of heat in his eyes when he said, “I’ll give you whatever you want, just to hear you laugh.”

  She closed the door on her way out, and then remembered her suitcase. She knocked and opened the door. He’d unbuttoned his shirt, flashing a set of six-pack abs, and a scar below his left nipple.

  “I…forgot…to ask. Did you call the hotel?” She couldn’t take her eyes off his chest, and it wasn’t like she’d hadn’t seen one recently. Jean’s was just as impressive, but Jean had never stirred her the way Rick was tempting her now.

  He stripped off the shirt, rolled it up, and dropped it on the bed. “I reached the hotel just in time to stop the chief of security from shipping it to your house. I sent our driver to pick it up.”

  “And Dad? Did you talk to him?”

  “He was glad to know you’re safe and wants to talk to you. I told him you’d call him when you get home.”

  “He didn’t say anything about the money?”

  “He said the check was still in his pocket and that he’d tear it up.”

  “You’re my hero, O’Grady. Thank you again.” She finally peeled her eyes off him. “I’ll let you shower. See ya downstairs.”

  She white-knuckled the banister, letting her shoulders rise and fall like bellows breathing a flame to life. No, the blaze was already burning. The bellows just increased the strength of the fire. Whew!

  She found Remy and Elliott sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee. “Is this a private meeting, or may I join you?”

  Elliott stood and pulled out a stool. “Have a seat, lass. How do ye feel now?”

  Her damp hair swung over her shoulders as she slid onto the barstool next to Elliott. “Human again, I guess.”

  “Remy was filling me in on some of the details. I’m sorry ye had such a hard time.”

  “The first few days were bad, but after Jean and I reached an understanding, the rest of the time was exciting. I’m glad I got to be part of it.”

>   “Remy said Lafitte might have hidden a treasure for ye that might include the torc. Do ye know where?”

  Penny sipped from the mug, thinking. “The only clue Marguerite gave us was that Jean would hide a treasure near ‘the big tree.’ The only significant one I’m aware of is an old bald cypress growing in a grove of tupelo trees in the bayous. We camped near it on our first night after leaving Barataria. Jean said it was thousands of years old, and the Indians had used it as a landmark for centuries. It was huge, like a hundred feet tall and twenty to thirty feet around.”

  “Can ye find it again?”

  “Katrina probably changed the topography, but the tree was unusual enough that if it’s still standing, we should be able to find it.”

  “If ye point David in the right direction, he’ll use overhead imagery back to the 1960s. Earlier than that, he’d have to search old newspapers, articles, journals looking for anecdotes. But a general location would be a great start.” Elliott said.

  “While he does that, I can rent an airboat and a tour guide and take a trip to Barataria. If we find something, we can go back on our own,” Penny said. “But here’s something to think about. If the shoreline changed, any treasure could be underwater by now.”

  “I doan want to go diving in alligator-infested water,” Remy said.

  Penny gulped her coffee and wheezed when it went down the wrong way. “I don’t either. I’d rather go back and find Jean than dive into a swamp. But aren’t you going to Virginia with the Fontenots?”

  “I talked to Charlotte and gave her all the information I collected about Rhona’s illness, so Rhona doan need me now. Besides, Sophia will be with her. Pete said he’d go to the farm to get Lukas, and then they’ll stay at the plantation for a while.”

  “Good. I’m glad they worked that out. But what about Soph’s paintings?”

  “The lass has art studios on the plantation and the farm,” Elliott said. “But right now, our priority is finding the torc.”

  “It’s possible Jean never found it, but we won’t know for sure until we find the tree.”

  Remy clacked keys on a laptop. “David’s working on Philippe, Rhona, and Churchill’s IDs. It will take him a few hours to get their backstories and documents figured out, but he doan have to go with us. We can rent a boat this afternoon and start searching. If we find anything, he and Kenzie can go back out with us.”

  “For what?” Rick entered the kitchen, grinned at Penny, and went immediately to the coffee pot.

  “Elliott wants us to start searching for Jean’s treasure to see if he found the torc,” Penny said.

  “Don’t you want to go back to Napa?”

  “I’ll call the office in a few minutes to let them know I’m okay. They won’t be happy that I’m not coming back right away, but I need to at least look for the treasure. The office can manage a few more days without me. What about you? Do you need to get back?”

  “They weren’t expecting me for a few more days. Cate has everything under control.”

  Elliott handed his mug to Rick. “We need to find the treasure. If Lafitte found the torc, it needs to be reunited with the topaz and locked away. I’m going to Virginia with the Fontenots but will be available to come back tomorrow if ye need me. But for now, I want to bring everyone up to date on a conference call tonight at seven o’clock eastern.”

  Rick filled Elliott’s mug and then his own. “What do you think, Penny?”

  “If we can’t find the torc, we’ll have to go back and ask Jean if he found it and where he put it.”

  “I’ll make some calls right now to find an airboat and guide so we can go this afternoon,” Rick said. “I’m sure we can find the tree, but if we can’t find the treasure, either we assume there never was one—”

  “Or we do as Penny suggested.” Remy slid his Ray-Ban aviators over his face and picked up his drumsticks. Ba-dum-CHING!

  58

  New Orleans—Penny

  Penny sat at the kitchen counter between Remy and Rick, glancing back and forth between Remy Googling large trees in Louisiana on his laptop and Rick Googling airboat tours of the bayous on his.

  She looked up when she heard Rhona giggling out in the hallway. Rhona giggling? Then Penny nearly fell off her barstool when Rhona waltzed into the room.

  Rhona held her hands in the air, framing an imaginary marquee. “Lights! Camera! Action! Aaannnddd…” she paused, “using the infamous words of Penny Lafitte, ‘Fuck, yeah!’”

  Penny did fall off the barstool then, laughing so hard she almost peed her pants.

  Rick jumped up to help her. “Are you okay?”

  “No!” She pointed. “Who is that woman?”

  Rick’s head swiveled toward the hallway. “Looks like someone has taken over Rhona’s body.”

  Penny hopped to her feet and rounded the bar to get a closer look at the makeover. “Oh, my God. You look a…maaaz…ing.” Penny took Rhona’s hand and held it aloft while Rhona did a modified pirouette.

  Rhona patted her messy bun. “Do I look that different?”

  “Hell, yeah. Did Kenzie do all this? Where is she? I want a makeover, too.” Penny glanced at Rick and mouthed, ‘Can you believe this?’

  He crossed one arm over his chest and supported his elbow while he scratched his whiskers and replied with a shake of his head.

  Churchill, sitting at the kitchen table reading on an iPad, looked up and smiled, before returning to whatever he was reading.

  Remy took Penny’s place and twirled Rhona around the room to the jazz playing on the house’s audio system. “Are you for real? Look at you. You’re beautiful. You look so healthy.”

  “I took a long, long shower.”

  “Sweetheart, you doan look this good from taking a shower. Where’s that husband of yours?” Remy stopped twirling and led her to a barstool, where he poured a glass of chilled orange juice from a carafe on the counter. Then he took her pulse. “Even after twirling around the room, your pulse is stronger than it was last night. What have you been doing?”

  “Kenzie gave me a one-handed facial, dermaplaned my face, plucked my eyebrows, applied makeup, and put me in this sundress. That’s all.”

  Rick kissed her cheek. “You don’t look at all like the woman we met weeks ago. You have color in your face, and your eyes are glowing. Did you call a twin sister to come over here to surprise us? You do look gorgeous. I agree with Remy. You’ve been up to something else. Where’s Philippe?

  “I’m right here.” Philippe moved farther into the room to stand behind his wife. “I’m just as surprised as you are, and I didn’t have anything to do with it. She and Kenzie were locked in the bathroom for an hour, and when Rhona walked out, she looked as beautiful as she did on our wedding day.”

  Rhona kissed him on the lips, he hugged her, and the hug visibly vibrated with the love that created it. “That was a beautiful day, darling.”

  “And you were a beautiful bride, my dear.” Philippe teared up. “I’m…so happy to see…you smiling.”

  Watching Philippe and Rhona, Penny had to blink away tears, and she couldn’t keep looking at the couple. She went to the coffee maker to pour another cup as memories of her parents’ romantic relationship washed over her. Their marriage had been her ideal, and when that didn’t happen with Franklin, she decided she must have romanticized what her parents had. But now, watching the Fontenots acting out their love, Penny knew her parents’ feelings for each other had been as heartfelt as she remembered.

  And now she felt even more inadequate. Love and sex weren’t about trading orgasms like baseball cards, but sharing all aspects of life, and giving your favorite card away because the joy of giving to the man you loved far exceeded the joy of receiving something awesome in return. Penny wanted what the Fontenots had, but unless she dealt with her demons, it would never happen.

  Rhona sipped her orange juice. “It’s the strangest thing. Every minute I’m here, I have more energy and can breathe more easily. I think I had a
psychosomatic disorder.”

  “No,” Remy said. “Your symptoms were—and are—real. You have a physical disease. Look at the bruises on your arms. You might feel better now because you know you’re about to get twenty-first-century medical care. That has to be a huge relief.”

  Rhona laughed. “Oh, Remy, don’t be such a downer. You’re right, of course, but don’t stomp on my high just yet.”

  David entered the kitchen carrying his laptop. “Maybe it’s yer telomeres.”

  “What’s that?” Philippe asked, his hands tenderly massaging Rhona’s shoulders.

  Kenzie walked in behind David. “NASA did a genetic experiment to understand the effects of long-term spaceflight on the human body,” she said. “They discovered that astronaut Scott Kelly’s telomeres were longer than his twin brother’s. Charlotte is collecting blood samples from everyone in the family to discover the health of our telomeres.”

  “But what are they?’ Philippe asked.

  “They’re the protective caps on the end of our chromosomes,” Rick said.

  “When telomeres get too short,” Kenzie said. “The cell can no longer divide and becomes inactive. The shortening process is associated with aging. So if spaceflight lengthens telomeres, traveling through time might keep us healthier, and we’ll live longer.”

  “That’s the question we’re hoping to answer.” David paused and stared off into space for a moment. “If traveling forward in time after seven years has affected yer telomeres, Rhona, yer health might improve, but not in an hour.”

  “What’s the status of the research?” Philippe asked.

  David set the open laptop on the counter. “Kits have been ordered for everyone. It’s a simple test. Ye prick yer finger, send in a sample, and get back the results. Charlotte will compile all the results and see if there is a correlation between telomere length and time travel.”

  “Shit!” Remy exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “It burned down.”

  The room went silent, all eyes on him.

  “What did?” Penny finally asked, glancing at his laptop screen.