by Lisa Prysock
The watch had disappeared for at least a week—although the guest who reported it missing hadn’t been sure of when it had disappeared—and then it mysteriously turned up on the desk of Patricia Johnston, her new administrative assistant. This meant one of her guests or someone who’d had access to the property might be a thief.
What other explanation could there be for the missing antique watch belonging to Nashville musician, Bradley Fielding? If not one of her guests, who knew about it previously or that Fielding had been staying as a long-term guest at Edgewater Coventry B & B? Why would someone want to take the watch and then return it? And why had they left it on Patricia’s desk? She didn’t believe Patricia Johnston was the one who took the watch, although Miss Johnston hadn’t been working there for much time. There was a certain air of integrity about all of Miss Pepper’s employees, and Miss Johnston was no different. Her background check had been clean as a whistle, too.
As the questions rolled through her mind, Pepper placed the tray on her side table, kicked off her shoes, and sat down in the chaise lounge near the fireplace, a book in her lap. She tasted some of the soup after situating herself with her favorite, cozy, throw blanket. “Ah, heaven...” she breathed. Solace, a great book to read, and good food nearly always put her in a better frame of mind. Now, if she could only solve the mystery.
ABOUT AN HOUR AFTER she’d settled into her book and finished eating the delicious meal, a knock on the door to her private suite interrupted her thoughts and the fifth chapter she’d been reading. She tossed the book and blanket aside, rising to answer. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Bradley Fielding himself standing there with a sheepish grin.
“Hi, Brad. What can I do for you?” She smiled, looking up at him. He appeared quite handsome in jeans, a t-shirt, and a red plaid shirt worn open over top of his t-shirt. He’d shed the tool belt and the guitar she so often saw slung over his back when he was on the way somewhere to practice with his band. He was wearing a white cowboy hat along with his leather cowboy boots, like he almost always did. Handyman by day, musician by night, he kept fairly busy, missing many of the meals at the bed and breakfast. Esther usually saved a plate for him in the fridge, and he could often be found warming up food in the kitchen’s microwave when she was off duty.
“Hi, Miss Pepper. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday. Just wondering if you might happen to have Miss Johnston’s address. If you do, would you mind sharing it with me?” He paused, looking a little uncomfortable asking for personal information about one of her employees. Then he raised a hand before she could object. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
She wanted to say, What am I thinking, Mr. Fielding? Instead, she stepped outside of her room onto the veranda wrapping around the rear of both floors of the “L-shaped” plantation house, and held her tongue, allowing him to finish.
“You see, I don’t really think Patricia Johnston is a suspect. She couldn’t have known about the existence of the watch, nor does she strike me as the type of person who’d sink to thievery.” He paused again, squinting as his eyes traveled to the rose garden beyond the courtyard terrace. He stared at the beautiful garden beginning to bloom with spring buds as he spoke. “Your housekeeper is the only other person who is ever in my suite. I’ve been here for a few months now working on my grandmother’s Victorian, and I still don’t think anyone employed here might have taken the watch. I’m not sure who did, but the housekeeper lady, Annette Rogers, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d steal. Esther Parnell, your cook, Theodore Coby, the gardener, and Patricia Johnston, well, I’ve ruled them out, also. Now, Raymond Bridge, your handyman, I don’t really know him, but he hasn’t been around much since I’ve been here since everything seems to be in working order. After thinking some things through and doing some more investigating, I now believe it was someone close to me or my grandmother who stole the watch and returned it.”
“You do? Oh, well I’m glad to hear your thoughts on this, Brad. My administrative assistant was distraught when I sent her home early on Friday. The stress of that watch showing up on her desk was too much for her. She could barely keep tears out of her eyes. I sent her home before noon so she could have some extra time to pull herself together.” Miss Pepper sighed. “In fact, I may as well mention, if you want to speak with her, I’ve offered her the guest house as a residence since I felt so badly about this unfortunate situation. It’s just sitting there empty anyways. To be honest, I can’t afford to keep losing perfectly good secretaries and needed something to coerce her to keep the job. She seemed awfully close to quitting over this unfortunate incident. She’ll be moving in next week. Maybe she’d even like some help moving if you’re able to help. Have you decided if you need to involve the police or not since all this happened?”
His gaze turned back toward her as he adjusted his cowboy hat. “I’m not sure waiting to speak with Patricia should be postponed until Monday since she’s so upset. She’s obviously been framed, but I think she needs to know I’m on to it. And yes ma’am, I may want to file a report over the weekend. You see, and this is just between you and me as I don’t want word to get around when I’m hoping details might slip out from someone who might lead us to the actual thief—but yes, there’s more than just the antique watch that turned up missing.”
Pepper was afraid to ask or hear the answer to her next question. She bit her lip and braced herself for the worst, standing up as tall as possible. “Oh, I see. What else is missing?”
Chapter 2
“Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all, confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.”—Marie Curie, Polish Scientist, (1867-1934).
IT WAS A MIRACLE PATRICIA Reece Johnston heard the buzzer to the intercom for her upstairs apartment located in a two-story house on the edge of downtown Atlanta. She’d just turned down the music blasting on her stereo, knowing the elderly lady who lived below was hard of hearing. However, whoever was standing outside might’ve heard her music as it drifted outside her open windows.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, especially since she’d started packing to prepare for the move into Edgewater Coventry B & B’s guest house. The fact she now had a visitor while wearing ugly gray sweats, a faded peach t-shirt, her hair thrown up in a ponytail, and no make-up on, completely annoyed her. She hit the buzzer. “Name, please.”
“Fielding. Bradley Fielding,” she heard the manly voice respond.
Her mouth dropped open. The nation’s newest and most popular music artist, the lead singer of the band Eternity was downstairs? Was he really standing outside her modest one-bedroom apartment? Not to mention, he was super good looking—an eligible bachelor with the dreamiest blue eyes she’d ever seen, who most likely thought she’d stolen his antique pocket watch.
That last thought caused her to run a hand through her ponytail while she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, and then opening them into an exasperated eye roll. Simultaneously, her body contracted into a foot stomp. She was extra thankful Mrs. Ripple was hard of hearing. Eeks! How’d he find out where she lived? The guy was on the cover of numerous tabloids every month touting him as the best thing since sliced bread. It was one thing to run into him when she was working in the office at the bed and breakfast, wearing her nice work clothes, usually professional suits, skirts, and dresses. Except on Fridays of course, if she happened to wear jeans for casual day—but encountering a successful music artist dressed in her grunge clothing was another matter entirely. She’d simply have to hope for the best. Here goes nothing. She pushed the intercom button and replied, trying to sound a little more cheerful. “Brad Fielding? Sure, come on up.”
After buzzing him in, she ran to the entry way where her purse sat on an antique, narrow mahogany table. She fished out her lip gloss and applied some as she looked in the mirror on the wall above. Then she pulled a few tendrils loose fro
m her ponytail to frame her face properly, drew in a deep breath, and opened the door when he’d climbed the staircase and knocked.
“Hi.” Patricia exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath. “Come in.” He looked awfully handsome in his jeans and t-shirt with his plaid shirt open. She’d noticed his muscular build a few times, but standing this close to him, he appeared even more buff. Then she remembered he was a handyman, constantly working to remodel his grandmother’s former estate and his new inheritance. Of course he was in great shape after hauling drywall, installing new flooring, or whatever else it was he did when he wasn’t recording another hit with his band.
“Thanks.” He took his cowboy hat off and followed her into the small apartment as she led them to the kitchen where she’d been packing her dishes into boxes, wrapping each one with tissue paper. She felt short next to him. She couldn’t help but notice how tall he was, and how small he made her apartment appear. He always seemed to have an air of humility about him, a trait she found refreshing these days.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, wrapping another plate as he looked around. Stop swooning! Recovering from her thoughts about his good looks, she managed to remember the rest of her manners. “You can have a seat at the island or the kitchen table if you want. Sorry I’ve been packing things up, getting ready to move.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Nice place you have here. I like the front porch and the windows. You have a nice location close to downtown and not too far from the B & B.” He nodded, taking a seat at the island.
“Thank you.” She smiled, placing the plate into the box and reaching for another to wrap.
“Miss Pepper told me you were moving into the guest house at the Edgewater.” he nodded, taking a seat at the island. “I figured you’d be busy, but I felt it might be best to let you know I have to file a police report, but I don’t think you’re the one who took the watch.”
“You don’t?” Patricia glanced at him, taking in his sky blue eyes, the sincere expression on his face, his broad shoulders. There she was, drooling on his good looks again.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’m not sure who took the watch, but I know it wasn’t you. Whoever returned it knows your desk is in the main office and must’ve figured you’d turn it in. Why would you incriminate yourself, and how would you know I even had the watch?”
She let out a sigh of relief that Bradley Fielding didn’t think she was a thief. Miss Pepper had assured her she didn’t think she was one, either. However, she’d wasted an hour in tears about the situation after coming home from work, and she’d been close to turning in her resignation since she couldn’t prove her innocence. Then she’d poured her remaining strength into praying hard for the Lord to vindicate her, choosing to focus on the great offer from Ms. Pepper Barrington to move into the guest house at the Edgewater Coventry B & B.
Moving into the guest house was an attractive step up for her. Her lease was up in a few weeks anyhow. Ms. Barrington’s property was located in an upscale neighborhood and had better security. In addition, Patricia would have access to the perks of a pool, walking trails, other amenities, three bedrooms in the guest house, and a lanai porch. She wouldn’t have to drive to work, and she’d have her own private entrance.
“I’m glad you don’t think I stole the watch, but I hope the police feel the same way.” She reached for another plate and began wrapping it in tissue paper.
“I’m sure they’ll realize at once that it wasn’t you,” he remarked.
She didn’t have much confidence in his statement. “I don’t see how...”
“We’ll file the report through Miss Pepper’s son instead of calling it in,” he explained.
“Wesley? That’s a good idea.” She nodded as she finished wrapping the last dinner plate and began tackling the smaller luncheon plates. The pattern on the plates included peach and pink flowers on a cream background. They were made by a factory specializing in heirloom dishes, and she didn’t dare wrap them in newspaper for fear of ink smudges. No, only white tissue paper would work for her favorite set of dishes. “At least Wesley knows me a little. I do take some comfort in that. Was it Miss Pepper’s idea?”
He nodded. “Yes, it was. I thought you’d agree. She reluctantly gave me your address because I pressed her for it. I didn’t want you to suffer through the weekend thinking I...”
“Thank you. It was kind of you to drive over here to tell me this news. I almost decided to quit over it, but the Lord convinced me otherwise when I prayed about it. As for the police...” She paused to shrug. “If the watch has been returned, I guess you’d want to file a report in case someone tries it again. I can’t prove my innocence, but I guess I can see why you’d want to, sort of.”
“Something like that,” he replied, sounding very much as though he wasn’t telling her the whole story.
She stopped wrapping the luncheon plate and looked him at directly, placing her hands on her hips. “What am I missing here? I mean, if you have the watch back, why drag the police into it, other than if it happens again?”
He sighed, appearing a little frustrated. “There’s more to the story than just the watch. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but some other items have turned up missing as well.”
“Oh.” She took a step back from the box she was packing, wondering what else could be missing from amongst his possessions.
He was studying her as if he was trying to decide whether or not to divulge any information. Then he forged ahead, much to her relief. “On the chain to the pocket watch, you may have noticed a key. The key belongs to a safe deposit box I inherited from my grandmother in addition to the old Victorian house I’m currently remodeling. Two items were taken from the box; a ruby and an emerald necklace, each worth thousands and thousands of dollars.”
Her mouth fell open, aghast. “Wow! If they suspect me, I really could go to jail if you file that report.”
“Wesley isn’t going to suspect you, Patricia, I mean, Miss Johnston. You’re trying to help. You turned the watch in. If you’d taken the necklaces, you certainly wouldn’t have turned the watch in. You did all the right things for someone in your position, being set up like that.” His words did little to comfort her, but she appreciated them nonetheless.
Patricia bit her lower lip. “Call me Trisha.” She was glad he’d recognized some kind of integrity in her. She fought back tears as she remembered returning to her desk after getting a cup of coffee in the kitchen from Esther, only to find the antique watch there. Of course she’d given it to Miss Pepper at once, who’d turned it over to Bradley Fielding. Still, the whole incident had been unsettling, to say the least.
“Trisha,” he repeated, nodding. “Call me Brad.”
She smiled. “All right, thank you Brad. As long as you’re sure I’m not going to jail.”
“You’re not going to jail. I’d have to press charges or the police would require some reason to believe you took the items. Wesley won’t pin this on you. He knows you are Miss Pepper’s friend, and we all know you didn’t take the watch.”
She hesitated before responding to him as she eyed the next stack of dishes in her cupboards, absorbing what he’d said, and then slowly began the process of wrapping the matching luncheon plates to her favorite set of dishes. “I certainly hope so, but if you’re wrong, you’re paying for my lawyer and bailing me out.”
“Deal,” he laughed.
A few moments later, he added, “And I’d like to help you with moving. What day and time are you moving?”
She paused to look around her apartment from behind the island. “Well, I don’t have much to pack. I lived at home with my parents until about two years ago and haven’t acquired that much. I guess it will take me tonight to pack the kitchen and bathroom. Tomorrow, I’ll pack my bedroom and the living room. That’s it, so I can move Monday after work. I imagine everything will fit in a small moving truck. I’ve already rented one.”
“You ever driven
a moving truck before?” he asked, one brow rising.
She shook her head, chuckling. “Well, I attempted to when I moved in here because I had a sofa, dressers, a bed, and a few boxes. Odds and ends, too. I ran over the mailbox at my mom and dad’s house before I even got out of the driveway, so my boyfriend at the time, Dallas Bad-Boy, drove the truck now that I think about it.”
“Dallas Bad-Boy?” he repeated with a chuckle. She noticed he had those attractive crinkles at the edges of his eyes when he smiled. Crow’s feet, other people called them. She liked calling them crinkles, and whatever they were, they made him appear more handsome.
“A story for another time,” she replied.
Brad nodded with a knowing look. “I’ll be happy to drive the truck for you and help you load and unload it. Is Monday at about five good? With Atlanta traffic, it could be a little later, but I’ll be here.”
“Sure, but it might be a long night. I can ask my dad if you’re not up to it.” She didn’t want to put him out.
“No, really, I don’t mind. I’d like to help. Throw in some pizza and root beer, and you’ve got me for the long haul.” He grinned, watching her empty a stack of small dessert plates from the cupboard.
She laughed, wrapping and placing another plate in the box. “Pizza and root beer it is. My favorite soda!”
He smiled, nodding. “So do you have anything you’d like me to wrap for you?”
“Sure. You can wrap my soup and salad bowls.” She handed him a stack of bowls and some tissue paper. “I’m actually curious about your grandmother and these necklaces. They must be very beautiful for someone to have stolen them.”
“Well, yeah, they are that. My grandmother was an amazing lady.” He nodded, smiling as he spoke of her, continuing to wrap the bowls. “I think you would’ve liked her.”
