"The episode has made me think about my life, and how I would feel if I had to leave," I said to my grandmother. "I'm fond of this place. I've never fit in anywhere the way I do here. It's my home, now."
"Ah well, that's not a surprise to me. That's why I brought you here," she said.
We sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes.
"You need to get dressed for dinner. We have guests coming," she said, patting my shoulder.
"Guests?"
She loved to entertain, so the fact that people were coming wasn't unusual; however, I was hardly in the proper mood.
"A geologist from Marywood University will be staying at the guest house for a while. He and his assistant will be joining us."
"Are you taking in renters?" I asked, surprised, as I got to my feet.
She chuckled.
"Hardly that. He's a guest lecturer and only planning to be there for a semester. Evidently it was quite a coup for them to get him, even for such a small amount of time. I met him this morning and I must say, I have a good feeling about him."
Mamó was notorious as a sound judge of character, so her good opinion was high praise.
"Then I look forward to meeting him. Do you need any help before I go?"
"No, child. I've only to go dress as well."
I walked home, retracing my steps on the stone walkway that led from her back door to mine.
My home was humble compared to my grandmother's grand manor. It was the 18th century farmhouse originally built on the property. Whereas when you entered the main house you had a grand foyer, my little house had no foyer at all. The front door opened directly into the main living area.
I went upstairs and took a quick shower before picking out a dress from my closet. Its deep turquoise color would set off my coloring well. It was a flattering choice that would make Mamó happy.
I sat at my dressing table, deft fingers pulling apart the long braid I had worn all day. I picked up my brush and ran it through my hair.
My people were the Sidhe of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Others thought of us as vain and superficial beings. Though my brethren often deserved the stereotype, I pride myself on being different.
Having said that, I admit that my hair is my one vanity. I admired it as I brushed. The color was a brilliant coppery blonde with golden highlights that shimmered in the light. I had big, wild curls. No matter how often I ran my brush through it, I never managed to tame them.
My final step before leaving the dressing table was to put on some jewels. I chose a necklace and a matching bracelet: simple strands of chrysocolla with its soothing, tranquil properties. Unfortunately, my ears have no real lobes, making wearing earrings virtually impossible: a sad thing for a jewelry designer.
I went nowhere without wearing some kind of jewel or gemstone. This was an important part of what allowed me to live among these people without having them discover whom, or rather what, I was.
My glamour—the magic that kept all humans except the rare Sidhe Seer from seeing my faceted eyes, the sheen of my hair, my pearly skin, and the points on the end of my ears—was rooted in these luxurious blossoms of the earth.
Our code of laws, the Decree of the Ancients, required that we live anonymously among humans. This was more important for me than for most but with my love of jewelry and stones, living this way had never been an issue for me.
The big grandfather clock downstairs struck the hour; I was running late. I took one last look in the mirror and, satisfied, I slipped into my heels and rushed back to Mamó's house.
I went to the front entrance of the manor house this time, as befitting the more formal occasion. I rang the bell and waited patiently for Shamus.
I suppressed a smile when he opened the door. It took effort to avoid commenting on his appearance. His butler's suit was newly cleaned and starched. His coarse, reddish-brown hair was slicked back with an abundance of hair gel that succeeded in keeping all but the very ends flat to his head.
"Good Evening, Miss Tressa."
"Shamus," I nodded as I stepped inside.
I had started toward the formal living room to the left of the entrance when I heard Shamus clear his throat. I slowed, turning back to look at him.
"They are in the study, My Lady."
I gave him a chiding look. He knew not to address me formally as long as we were in the human world. However, that annoyance faded as I digested the rest of his words.
"In Móraí's study? And she has guests with her?"
My grandmother generally avoided going into my grandfather's study since he had passed away. I followed Shamus as he led me to the back of the house.
"Perhaps I should announce your arrival formally," he said. The twinkle in his eye told me he was goading me but the idea was appalling.
"Shamus, you wouldn't! No titles today."
"As you wish, My Lady," he said, grinning.
With a grand wave of his arm, he gestured for me to enter the room. He bowed slightly at the waist as I crossed in front of him.
The room looked dark and broody, lit only with a couple of lamps. At first, it appeared to be empty. Then I noticed a man there, standing with his back to me. He stood in front of the case that held my grandfather's large collection of gemstones and crystals.
I flipped the switch that turned on the lights inside the case to give Mamó's guest a better view of the stones. The light danced around my grandfather's collection, creating the feeling of movement and life.
The man turned toward me and our eyes met with mutual recognition. I sucked in my breath in surprise. I thought back over my conversation with my grandmother, to what she had said about her dinner guests. Surely this could not be the man to whom she had rented the guesthouse. This man was supposed to be on his way out of town.
To his credit, Sophia's father looked taken aback as well.
"You again! Surprised twice in one day," he said.
"You say that, and yet you're the one showing up at my place," I retorted.
He laughed aloud: a good, hearty sound.
"Fair enough," he said.
His breezy attitude calmed the nervous tizzy going on inside me. I remembered my role as host, joining him by the display case.
"This collection is a rock hound's dream," he said.
"Aye, my grandfather was quite the collector."
"Do you see that Pineapple Opal?" he said. He leaned closer to point to a stone made of a cluster of milky white opals, which did indeed resemble a pineapple. He smelled of earth and intoxicating spices.
"What a fantastic specimen," he said. "They're only found in the opal fields of the White Cliffs of New South Wales. They're very rare. Most of them have been cut up; they’re made of such excellent opals."
"That's what I would do," I said.
He placed a hand over his heart as if wounded. "And destroy such a beautiful piece?"
"It does no good, trapped there in the case. Opals bring emotional stability to those who wear them." They can also normalize blood sugars over time with the right amount of fae essence, but I didn't say that.
"How very New Age of you," he said with a smile. It was my turn to laugh.
"More like old world, I would say."
We both leaned in, almost touching, as he pontificated on a large, uncut taaffeite on one of the lower shelves.
I took a reluctant step away from him when I heard voices coming toward the door of the study, realizing we were much too close to each other.
"Ah, here is my granddaughter now," my grandmother said as she entered the room. She spoke to a lanky black man who looked at me through small, round wire-rimmed glasses.
Shamus helped Mamó to a well-worn, brown leather winged chair: part of an intimate seating arrangement surrounding the cold fireplace, before quietly leaving the room. Mamó sat with such dignity, she might have been holding court at the palace.
The lanky man held out his hand. His smile broadened to reveal exceptionally white teeth.
> "Hi. I'm Matt Johnson."
I shook his hand.
"I'm Tressa Danann."
"Do you guys know each other?" Matt asked. His inquisitive look suggested that he thought he had interrupted something. To my embarrassment, I blushed.
"Not really. He was in my shop today with his daughter," I said, looking at the man beside me. I didn’t even know his name.
"I haven’t introduced myself," I said, surprised at my lack of manners.
"Alexander Mannus," Sophia's father said.
"Tressa. Pleased to meet you." I shook his hand as well.
His grip was weaker than I anticipated. I looked down as he pulled his hand away and saw a wide, white line of a scar scrolling through his palm and up his arm, disappearing into his shirtsleeve.
Introductions finished, we joined my grandmother in the comfortable leather furniture.
"So hey, you work at that store?" Matt asked. "The one with all the excitement this afternoon?"
"You heard about our little incident?"
"I was there, though not for long. Xander asked me to pick up Sophia."
"And where is the child now?" my grandmother asked.
"She's with my folks. They live over in Tobyhanna," Matt answered. Then he turned to me and asked, "You weren't the one who got hurt, I hope?"
"No, it was the young lady who works for me."
Alexander raised an eyebrow, and belatedly I realized I had made a critical mistake. I hadn't thought to re-bandage my leg. Why would I have, not knowing who our dinner guests would be?
My grandmother changed the subject, saving me from further questions. "Why don't you tell us how you came to know each other?" she asked the men.
Matt happily complied. Mamó and I learned that the two men had been in the military together. I knew nothing about the inner workings of the armed forces and therefore I didn't understand all of what Matt said, but from what I gathered, Alexander had been his superior officer and they had fought together somewhere in the Middle East.
Matt prattled on, however I wasn't listening anymore. All my attention was on Alexander, though I tried my best to hide it.
I remembered the thick scar that coiled around his palm and up his arm. How had he gotten it? Fighting in the gulf, most likely.
My attention jerked back to the conversation as Matt's words echoed my thoughts.
"Xander came back to the states to recuperate. When he was discharged, he started prospecting, of all things."
"Not such an odd thing for a geologist," Alexander interjected.
Matt nodded his head and kept going.
"Anyway, I started working with him after he made his big find. I help him with his prospecting, but I'm also his lapidary." He turned to me and grinned. "I'm sure you'll agree, Tressa, when I say the stones are only as good as how well they are cut and polished."
Shamus interrupted Matt's story to announce that dinner was ready. Our small group got up to move into the dining room. Just as we had earlier in the day, Alexander and I acted with the same objective. We both moved to help my grandmother.
This time, Alexander arrived before me. Without hinting at any concern other than escorting her into the dining room, he offered her his arm, which she accepted with great dignity.
In that moment, I liked him very much.
I studied Alexander's attitude during dinner, trying to see if the odd events of the day lingered in his mind. Yet I spent most of the evening distracted by my unanticipated attraction to him.
He spoke infrequently through dinner, which gave me little chance to learn about him through the tone and choice of his words. My senses needed a great deal to occupy them, so with my hearing next to idle, my vision went into overdrive.
I scrutinized every part of his face. He had smooth, flawless skin, except for the two small scars by his right ear and a thin, two-inch long scar that marred the edge of his strong jaw line. His dark, almost charcoal hair had a silky, gentle wave. That being said, his eyes were his standout feature. They weren't multifaceted like mine—refracting the light back to where it came—but deep, rich brown pools that pulled you in.
When I wasn't looking at him, I could feel Alexander's eyes on me. Whenever he stole a surreptitious glance a flutter ran through me that I couldn't identify. Was I worried he was becoming suspicious of me or did I hope he was attracted to me?
While Alexander and I pretended not to study each other, Matt and my grandmother got to talking about gardens. Not typical back yard gardens, but the large formal ones found on grand estates, palaces and such.
I would have thought it an odd conversation for the young man except that his round glasses gave him such a bookish look. He couldn't have landed on a subject more dear to my grandmother's heart. Her joyful expression as they discussed their favorites was a pleasure to see.
"I understand you have some fantastic gardens here on your estate, Mrs. Danann." Matt said as he fiddled with his tie.
"How nice, you must come by often to enjoy them. I designed them myself."
Something seemed to roll around in Matt's mind when she said this. As if a memory was moving from deep inside to the forefront.
"Wait a minute, Órlaith Danann," he said, not speaking to her but as if the name meant something to him. He smacked his head with the palm of his hand.
"How did I miss that? Órlaith Danann designed some of the most famous gardens in Europe during the 19th century! Are you related?"
I hid my amusement and waited to see how she would answer his question.
"Sure and I'm her namesake," she said.
Well, that was almost true. She was the Órlaith Danann who designed those gardens, but confessing that fact would show her age; or more likely, since the truth would be impossible in their minds, they would believe she was crazy or demented.
To dissuade any more probing from Matt, I drew Alexander into the conversation saying the first thing that came to mind.
"Mr. Mannus, your daughter is completely charming."
He beamed. The corners of his eyes crinkled and those dark chocolate pools drew me in deeper.
"Thank you, she likes you too. When I left her with Matt's mother this evening she still hadn't stop talking about you."
Though his response was pleasant enough, I regretted mentioning Sophia the second the words escaped. The comment had to remind him of how we met. I reprimanded myself for indirectly mentioning the very thing I wanted him to forget.
"Will Sophia be with you for your entire stay, or will she be spending time with her mother too?" my grandmother asked.
Alexander's body tensed. "Her mother's not with us anymore," he said, his voice had a gruff edge that discouraged continuing that line of conversation.
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEXANDER
After dinner, Shamus delivered boxes with at least thirty large thick journals to the guesthouse where I was staying. Brion Danann had kept copious notes on the exploration and research he did in the area.
I did my prospecting on instinct, just going where my gut told me. I couldn't imagine what information the journals contained that would fill so many volumes, especially when the information covered a relatively small geographical area. You could cover every inch of the entire state of Pennsylvania in so many volumes.
I had been staring at the leather bound books for hours. I’d put them into chronological order, or as close as I could figure. The older volumes were written in an unfamiliar language. They also had drawings, diagrams, and calculations, and I hoped that would give me enough to go on.
The book in front of me had to be the oldest, although the pages weren't yellow or showing any sign of age. Hand drawn maps showed the area around the estate, the woods and mountains to the north. The nearby town was no bigger than a trading camp. It probably illustrated the territory as it was in the 18th century—when the area was the frontier.
Such strange research. There were sketches of the estate's first farmhouse and barn, along with detailed floor pla
ns, livestock and planting records. Equations—no, lists of latitudes and longitudes... areas he was excavating? And this here—this is a list of names? Townspeople? Farmhands? Slaves?
I sat back into the deep cushioned sofa, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes closed. I was getting a headache from trying to understand the scratchy handwriting that filled the half-dozen journals I had spread out on the coffee table in front of me. It was late; time to call it a night.
I picked up the small velvet bag sitting on the table next to the journals, opened the drawstring, and dumped the small stones inside into the palm of my hand. I studied them, rolling them around with my finger, remembering the day I found these stones inside the small package from Mrs. Danann. I was flabbergasted.
After over a decade searching the world for stones that matched my ring, out of the blue, some are mailed to me from this elderly woman. I set the velvet bag back on the table. Then I put the stones and my ring on top of the bag so I could see them together.
Something else had come in the mail that day, too: an invitation to be a guest lecturer at a university only twenty miles from where this woman claimed the stones had been found. I was sure they must have seen the article about me in the Rock and Gem magazine. I had also been in the news when I discovered a new mineral, so my name was out there... Still, it all seemed too coincidental. I shook my head just thinking about it. There was something off about the whole thing.
I slid forward to the edge of the sofa, resting my forearms on my knees. I scrutinized the journals again. Could the information I need be here in this strange mix of science and domestic bliss?
A sense of reassurance fell over me, convincing me that without a doubt, my answer lay within these pages. I had learned to trust my intuition. It had never served me wrong before; why would it now?
Feeling rejuvenated, I looked again at the indecipherable handwriting. What language was this? Gaelic? I'd get what I could from the books and then hire someone to translate them.
I took a sip of coffee from the mug on the table, forgetting I had brought it from the kitchen hours ago, and grimaced. The cold coffee tasted disgusting. I wouldn't stay awake much longer without another jolt of caffeine, so I took it back to the kitchen to get a fresh cup.
Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1) Page 3
