by Diane Darcy
He sighed. As much as he liked Isabelle, he wasn’t prepared to do that. Stephen needed to learn a lesson. Of all the jewelry in his store, taking that particular necklace and giving it to a seventeen-year-old girl for a prom was a kick in Adam’s teeth. Especially when he’d taken a chance on him. The guy was an idiot and needed to worry and needed to be searching for it. As much as Adam wished Isabelle could let it go, or that he could relieve her worry, he just couldn't do it.
“Izzy.” Adam stopped and Isabelle did, too. She looked up at him, and what he really wanted to do in that moment was kiss her. But with her living at his house, it wouldn’t be honorable, and it would put her in an untenable position. She might even leave. Instead he locked his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t reach for her.
“Yes?” Her eyes shimmered in the starlight, and he wasn’t surprised. The girl was magic.
“Come on. Let's go back to the house.” He needed to get away from her because, if she kept looking at him like that, like she admired him, then he was going to do something really stupid. Like hold her hand, or kiss her, or tell her that he wouldn't press charges against her thieving father, just so he could get more of that look.
Chapter Seven
LATER THAT NIGHT, ADAM, FLASHLIGHT in hand, was about to go outside again when his phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hello, son. It’s Dad. I’m just giving you a call to see how it’s going. Did you ever find that necklace?”
“Not yet, but there’s still some hope.”
“I hope that low-down manager is in prison.”
“It’s being handled.”
“Good. How’s everything else?”
“Great.” Adam was glad for the change of subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How did you know Mom was the right one for you?”
“I just knew. I didn’t have to think about it. I’d been dating quite a bit and was getting a reputation as a ladies’ man. What do they call it these days? A gamer?”
“A player.”
“Right, that’s it, a player. Anyway, your mother got transferred to the area and was working in supply on base, and I took one look at her and I knew.” Dad laughed. “She'd heard about me from some of the other girls, they’d sort of warned her off, but I wouldn't take no for an answer. I kept asking her out. I asked for her phone number so I could call her and when she finally agreed to give it to me I made the mistake of pulling out my little black book. She just rolled her eyes and walked away.”
Adam chuckled. “You did not do that.”
“I did. You don’t know how good you boys have it just being able to pull out your cell phone and the girls don’t think a thing about it. So, later we were at a dance and I saw her talking with some girls gathered around the fire outside, and I asked her to come inside and dance with me. She said, ‘have you still got that little black book?’ I walked up to her, tossed it in the fire, and said ‘no, I do not.’ She smiled, took my hand and went back inside with me.”
Adam laughed. “So not cool.”
Dad chuckled. “At that point I'd been dating nonstop for a few years, and was starting to think that all girls were the same and that I ought to just choose one. But by the time that dance ended, I knew I was a goner. I just knew. Check and mate. Now, do you want to tell me if there's any particular reason you’re asking me these questions?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Dad laughed. “You do that, son. You let me know when the wedding is.”
“How’s the family?” asked Adam, anxious to change the subject again.
“As to that, your sister is having a little bit of man trouble.”
“Does Gracie need any help?”
Dad chuckled. “You know your sister. She's stubborn as the day is long and she'll figure it out herself. She's leading some guy on a merry chase, but if she decides to let him catch her, she will.”
“Have you met him?”
“No. She won’t even tell me his name. She calls him the troll under the bridge, but she hasn't cut him loose yet, so she must like trolls.”
Adam managed not to laugh. “Okay, let me know if she needs anything. How’s Luke doing?”
There was a heavy sigh on the line. “According to him, he’s fine and everything is under control. But you just might want to talk to him yourself.”
“Why's that?”
“Luke finds himself in a bit of a mess right now, but so far as I can tell there’s nothing any of us can do to help him. Seems your mother and I might be grandparents soon. But since Luke took his own sweet time deciding what to do about it, now the lady won't have him. So…as it's stressing your mom, I might have to step in soon. Your mother,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “Has taken to knitting booties and such. Let me tell you, that woman is talented at quite a few things, but knitting? No. Just no. Hopefully, she’ll calm down when the baby is born. If we get to meet the baby.”
“I’ll try to get in touch with Luke.”
“You do that. If you find out anything, give your mother a call.”
“Will do.”
“And as you have it bad yourself, if you have any good news, call your mother about that, too. It might cheer her up.”
He got off the phone and thought about giving his brother a call, but if he did, Luke would turn the tables and dig everything out of him--call Adam a fool for not prosecuting Izzy’s father and cutting her loose--and Adam didn’t want to hear it. He had something else to do. He grabbed the flashlight from off the counter where he’d set it, and headed out the backdoor.
Did he have it bad for Isabelle?
He wasn’t interested in other girls. Check.
Would he toss away his little black book if Izzy asked him to? Check.
Was he headed back to the beach to pick up the piece of driftwood she'd admired earlier so he could make her something with it? Check and mate.
Yeah, he had it bad.
He turned on the flashlight and headed outside, across the lawn, and down the steep stairs to the beach below.
~~~
The next day Izzy drove home to check on her father. As she walked up the sidewalk to their apartment, a small voice piped up. “Hi, Izzy!”
Isabelle turned to see Rosie in a pink and white sparkle dress, stumbling toward her on plastic high heels, a kitten tucked under one arm, and a big smile on her face. “Where have you been?”
Isabelle’s lips curled up. “Hey, cutie pie. I'm living across town for the moment. But I'll be back soon. Who is this adorable little guy?”
“I think it's a girl.” Rosie offered up the black-and-white furball for inspection.
“What's her name?”
“Her mom is Queenie, so I named her Princess.”
“That's a pretty name. What's this around her neck?”
“It's a bracelet. It doesn't fit her mom, but it fits her okay.”
“Sweetie, I think you need to be careful. Something like this could choke her.” Isabelle carefully removed the beaded bracelet and handed it to Rosie.
Rosie pouted. “I like it on her.”
“Do you want her to get hurt?”
Rosie ducked her head. “No.”
“The bracelet will look better on you, anyway.” As Rosie pulled the bracelet onto her wrist, Isabelle held the soft little animal against her chest and stroked the crying kitten. “She's so tiny and soft.”
“My mom says I have to find new homes for the kitties when they're old enough, but I get to keep one. I asked Courtney if she wanted one, but she said no because she's moving soon. Do you want one? You could choose first.”
Isabelle cuddled the kitten one last time before handing her back. “I wish I could, but I'm moving soon, too, and I don't know if my new place will allow pets.”
“Where are you moving? To where you're staying now?”
“No, I’ll be getting my own apartment. But do you want to know a secret?”
Rosie’s eyes widened and she nodded solemnly.
“Right now,
for just a little while, I'm living in a castle.”
Rosie's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “A castle?” she whispered.
Isabelle nodded. “Yes. There's one just outside of town and I get to stay in it for a little while longer.”
Rosie’s expression was awed. “Just like a real princess.”
“Pretty much.”
“If your dad will be living alone, do you think he would want a kitten?”
Isabelle stood. “I don't know. You'll have to ask him.” She lifted a hand and waved. “I'll see you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Isabelle went inside the apartment to find her father making a sandwich. “How’s it going?”
Her father, barefoot and in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair awry, looked far less elegant than his usual self. He set his knife down and turned to hug her. “Izzy.” He moved back and placed his hands on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine, Dad, just a little worried about you.” He looked depressed, his gaze skittering from hers as he moved away to spread peanut butter on bread. Of course he was depressed: he hadn’t found the necklace, he’d lost his job, and he was worried about jail time. And now it was a waiting game. Their only hope was that someone would bring the necklace into one of the local pawnshops and they’d get a call.
“Don’t worry about me,” he finally said. “I’m keeping busy. Today I emailed a few more pawnshops in the LA area. I also printed up some color pictures and took them into a few local shops.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“I finally tracked down the guy with the metal detector.”
“You found him? What did he say?”
“At first he refused to talk to me. He just walked away. When I blocked his path, he finally said he didn’t have it. I don’t know if I believed him, but I’m not sure what to do about it.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“I keep searching, too. Everywhere I can think of: the restaurant, the school, around the apartments, the beach.”
“It will turn up. I know it will.”
“I just want to get you out of there.”
“Don’t even worry about me, Dad. I mean it. Adam is a perfect gentleman. In fact,” she dug in her purse and pulled out an index card with a name and number, “I have some really good news. Adam called a friend at a clothing store in the mall and he’s waiting for you to call and go in for a job interview.”
He took the card and studied it. “Why would he do that?” he looked up, his expression hopeful. “Is there any chance he’s changing his mind about pressing charges?”
“He didn’t say that. But he does seem willing to wait a bit longer before doing anything about it, so that’s good, right?”
Dad nodded, then looked down at the card again. “Did you hear about Frank Finn?”
“The assistant manager at Wilder’s?”
“Not anymore. He’s the manager now.”
“Oh, Dad. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “He called to let me know. To rub it in is more like it. I could hear him smiling. I told Erin she should leave me, find someone else to marry, but she won’t go.” He turned away. “Things never seem to go right for our family, do they?”
His depression was really worrying her. She looked around, wondering if she ought to check for alcohol. “Then it’s time for some good luck, isn't it? It’s going to work out, you’ll see. In the meantime, start thinking about that new job. If anyone can sell clothing, it’s you.”
He looked down at his rumpled shirt. “Do you think so?”
“You might want to spruce up for the interview.”
He smiled, looking more hopeful and more like his old self. If Adam had been standing there in that moment, Isabelle would have kissed him.
~~~
Adam heard Izzy come inside, but he continued to work on the thick gold bracelet, setting precious stones around the middle. When he didn't hear anything more, rather than get up, he picked up his phone and texted: Where are you? A minute later he heard his phone beep and eagerly reached for it.
I'm pulling weeds in the backyard.
He considered telling her he had a guy come in for that once a week, but figured she wanted to feel useful so he hesitated, then texted again: You should come up here and talk to me while I work.
I would…but I'm not allowed in the workshop, remember?
Adam smiled: I could make an exception.
No way. I wouldn't dream of having the rules bent for me. Rules are made to be followed.
Adam chuckled, his thumbs busily tapping the screen: There's rules, and there's rules. In the military we have our orders. What if I ordered you to come up here?
Lol. Good luck with that.
He laughed: What if I came out and joined you?
Sorry, but there aren't enough weeds to go around.
I could come and observe. I could point out all the weeds you missed. Phone in hand, Adam waited. When she didn't respond right away, he checked what he'd written and wondered if he'd crossed a line. He stood and considered going to the window to check and see if she had her phone in her hand but didn't want her to catch him spying. Finally the phone beeped.
Lol. Only if you have a death wish.
He laughed again: Fine. Do you have any plans tonight?
No. Why?
I was thinking that since all you do is work and all I do is work, maybe we should plan something fun for later.
Again there was a long pause as Adam checked and rechecked his phone. Finally it beeped.
That sounds fun, but it won't be a date or anything, right?
Adam blew out a breath as some of the fun leaked out of the situation. She wasn’t ready to date. Everything was complicated at the moment. He needed to remember that. He quickly texted: No way. I'm still waiting for the end of summer for my date so don't rush me, okay? Just friends hanging out.
Lol. Okay. What did you have in mind?
While it’s still light out we could make sandwiches and go down to the beach and look for seashells for a project I'm working on.
Note to self: Come up with seashell project idea.
So basically you're looking for slave labor? Okay. I'm in.
He laughed again: Good. I'll meet you in the kitchen at 6:00.
She sent back a smiley face icon.
He set the phone down, leaned back in his chair, laced his hands behind his head, and grinned. She might not think this was a date, but like his dad always said, a rose by any other name…
~~~
Caitlyn checked her low-cut blouse, decided the girls were perfectly displayed, and opened the wood and glass doors to Wilder’s Jewelry. She stepped inside the elegant store, high heels clicking on the wood floor. After talking it over with her aunt, they’d decided the best way to impress Adam would be to wear his jewelry and thus demonstrate how much she loved it and, of course, Adam by association. As she well knew, flattery was the best way to woo a man.
She spotted a tall, thin, and slightly sullen-faced man cleaning one of the jewelry displays. He looked about her own age. “Hello?”
He straightened, interest brightening his eyes. “Hello. Welcome to Wilder’s,” he said warmly. “How may I help you today?”
She held out a hand. “I’m Caitlyn Gilroy.”
He gripped her hand a little too firmly and she could feel every bone in his stick-like fingers. “Frank Finn. I’m the manager here.”
“Manager?” He was definitely not the same man who’d been there the last time. That gentleman had given her a twenty percent discount and, since she was running low on funds--at least until she received her divorce settlement, or could convince Adam to marry her--she needed the break. “Where is the older gentleman who helped me the last time?”
Frank’s upper lip curled. “You must mean Stephen.”
“I don’t remember his name.”
“About six feet tall, gray hair?” There was a definite sneer in
the man’s tone. “A recovering alcoholic?” That last part she hadn’t known. Nor did she care. She just wanted the discount and didn’t want to haggle for it.
“A recovering alcoholic?” she said, putting a touch of horror in her voice. “How ridiculous that he was a manager at a store of this prestige.”
“Yes. If you can believe it, he got the job ahead of me.”
Ah. Hence the sullenness? “Amazing. So, what happened to him?”
He leaned on the glass counter and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “If you really want to know, a necklace went missing. And not just any necklace, it was the Starfire, the best piece in Mr. Wilder’s collection.”
Now she really did feel horrified. Anything of Adam’s could also be hers in the near future. “That’s terrible.”
Frank nodded. “The owner hasn’t said anything yet, but in my opinion the ex-manager is the main suspect. Let me show you something.”
He pulled a laptop from behind the counter against the wall, tapped the keyboard for a few moments, then set it on the glass in front of her, swung it around, and showed her a picture of a necklace.
Instantly mesmerized, breath catching in her throat, Caitlyn put a hand to her chest and leaned forward, a hank of long dark hair falling over one shoulder. Set against white velvet, the golden star glittered with rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. It was the single most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. She wanted it, and was suddenly miffed with that Stephen person for stealing it. It had to be hers. When she married Adam, she’d insist on one just like it for their wedding. She finally tore her gaze away to catch Frank ogling her chest. “It’s gorgeous. You’re positive it was stolen?”
The man met her gaze and shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. But it went missing at the same time our manager was fired.” He straightened. “Since I replaced him, I’m officially in the management position at the moment. Hopefully it’s a permanent appointment.”
“No one has been accused at this point?”
“No. But Stephen Kenna certainly looks suspicious.”
