“Either way, it explains Tad’s disappearance and Vanessa’s, assuming she followed his trail.” She scrubbed her eyes with her fists. “Let’s get out of here. We don’t have to waste our time looking for the book. If we’re right, the book is long gone. I think it’s safe to say Prescott has no idea about any of this. What we need is a visit to the historical society and a good search engine to find us a genealogy web site.”
“Which your brother can help with as soon as he gets in touch, right?”
“Don’t remind me about that louse. At this point, I’m convinced you were right. He’s stalling to drive me crazy.”
Mark frowned. “I was pulling your leg. You can’t believe he’d mess with you at a time like this.”
“I told him it was important, but I didn’t say why. I should’ve told him about Vanessa. If Jonathan knew all the facts, he wouldn’t be kidding around.”
“I’m afraid he’s not the only one holding you up. The historical society is closed today. They’re closed every Wednesday.” Mark opened the door for Annabelle. “Probably to avert a conflict with meetings of the Garden Club.”
She looked over her shoulder at him as they left the storage room. “You can’t make fun of them until after they help us.”
Mark gave a long-suffering sigh. “They get so wrapped up in all these clubs. You should see what Mrs. Haley goes through when she has a meeting at her house. All the scrubbing and baking and fussing for women she talks with every single day!”
A hand came from behind and ruffled his hair. “Funny, I don’t hear you complaining when you finish off the leftover cookies. Guess your mouth is too full.”
“Jillian!” Mark turned and enveloped a petite woman with long, blonde hair in an enormous bear hug. She squealed as he lifted her off the ground.
“Mark Dering, I’m put out with you for not calling me the moment you came back home. You put me down right this minute. I’m far too busy to waste my afternoon being manhandled by you.”
His response was to lift her another few inches and swing her around. “Being handled by me is never a waste of time, sugar.”
A hot dart of jealousy seared Annabelle’s stomach.
“This is just a guess, but I get the impression if you don’t put me down soon, the beautiful woman standing next to you will be very put out.” Jillian’s feet hit the floor as her laughter rang out. “Suspicion confirmed. Mark, I swear all this travel has drummed the manners right out of you. Why don’t you stop being so rude and introduce us?”
“Annabelle, I’d like you to meet Jillian Beaufort. We grew up together. She’s the little sister I never ordered.”
Annabelle extended her hand, which was pumped vigorously by the blonde pixie. Mark continued with the introductions.
“Jillian, this is Annabelle Carlyle. She’s a writer for Wanderlust; down here doing a story on our hometown.”
“Ooh, you just could not have picked a better time to visit. The ball only happens once a year. Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll have an invitation hand delivered in the morning.” Jillian gave Mark an appraising look, taking in the hand which rested proprietarily on Annabelle’s waist. “On second thought, now I know you’re back in town, I reckon I’d best have two invitations delivered tomorrow.”
“A ball? You mean a big hoop skirt and tails type affair? And me without my corset.” A moment too late, Annabelle bit her tongue as Jillian’s eyes widened. Annabelle was certain she’d offended Mark’s friend. Less than two minutes after being introduced—had to be a personal record.
“Quite all right, dear,” Jillian drawled slowly. “We’ll just prop you in a corner and charge people five dollars to stare at the real, live Yankee.” After waiting a beat, she reached out and pinched Annabelle lightly on the arm. “You silly goose.”
“Relax, sugar.” Mark squeezed her waist. “I promise not to let them stuff you in a corset.”
“Oh, very funny.” Annabelle pulled away from Mark and smiled at Jillian. “I’m terribly sorry. I have a bad habit of speaking first and thinking later—a thoroughly backwards way to go about the process, so I’m told.”
“Nonsense. It simply means you’ll be more fun to talk to than ninety percent of the people at the ball.” Jillian gave her hand a friendly pat.
“Let me start over. What is this ball?” Annabelle asked.
“It’s the biggest fundraiser of the year for the Daughters of Charleston. And really, the Magnolia Ball is the highlight of the entire Charleston season. After the ball, there aren’t any social events to speak of until at least September. Rumor has it everyone goes to Hilton Head to escape the summer heat, but I like to think it’s because no one’s brave enough to try and top the Magnolia Ball.”
Annabelle laughed, and decided on the spot not to hold Jillian’s striking beauty against her any longer. “It sounds like quite an event. And it must be an enormous amount of work. Did you organize the entire thing?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Please, please, don’t get her started. The excruciating details of how she single-handedly put the entire event together working twenty-seven hour days for the last eleven months will keep us rooted in this hallway for a good three days.” He turned to Jillian, who was busy sticking her tongue out at him. “Yes, squirt, we’ll come to your ball.”
“Ooh, that’s great! And I promise you’ll have a good time, Mark, because Ashby’s going to be there.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be joking. He told me he was helping you with the preparations, but he very carefully left out the fact he’d attend. Ashby hasn’t worn anything more formal than flip-flops in years. How’d you rope him into it?”
“Despite what you may think, Mr. Dering, most men fall all over themselves in an attempt to make me happy. I just bat my pretty blue eyes, and any man becomes a quivering, subservient lump.”
Annabelle didn’t bother to try and stifle her grin. Jillian’s appearance was just the distraction she needed to get her emotional legs back under her all the way.
Mark winced. “Disgusting, but completely true. I’ve seen Jilly in action, and all I can say is that it doesn’t speak well of the male population. I am one of but a very few who sees her for the manipulative squirt that she is. Happily, Ashby joins me in that category. So I repeat, how’d you rope him into attending the ball?”
Jillian wrinkled her nose. “One would think you’d want to at least pretend to have manners in front of your lady friend. Stop insulting me, or I’ll tell terribly embarrassing tales of your misspent youth.” Mark continued to stare at her in silence, arms crossed, waiting.
She blew an exasperated breath that ruffled her bangs. “Oh, all right! The truth is I bribed him, which I’m sure you suspected all along. I needed some help with the flowers—Ashby is an immensely talented horticulturist,” she explained to Annabelle. “He can make absolutely anything grow. I promised him the use of our family sailboat for an entire weekend, contingent upon him being there the night of the ball to solve any flower emergencies.”
“Flower emergencies?” asked Annabelle. “I hear those can be serious. It’s positively amazing flower emergencies don’t lead the national news every night.”
“Very discerning. I’ve known you five minutes, and you already see right through me. Mark, you picked a winner this time. I just know we’re going to be great friends.” Jillian pulled Annabelle ahead of Mark a few steps and lowered her voice.
“The truth is I’ve a horribly silly crush on Ashby. We’ve known each other our whole lives, and he’s always been like my big brother. But when I moved back home this year, I realized I have very un-sisterly feelings about him. Especially in my dreams.” She blushed carnation pink to the roots of her hair.
Mark’s long stride kept him in hearing distance, and when he squeezed back between them he looked horrified. “Jilly! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew if I said anything you’d get the exact look of panic and shock which is on your face right n
ow and run and warn Ashby that big, bad, man-eating Jillian is hot on his trail.”
Annabelle gave Jillian a look of complete understanding. Her brother Jonathan was the same way. “I went to a dance with my brother’s best friend back in high school. Jonathan refused to speak to me for weeks after. Men can be very territorial.”
Jillian nodded knowingly. “Precisely why I kept my mouth shut. Except it’s been months now and I’m still getting nothing more than absent minded pats on the head. I make up all sorts of reasons to be around him, but it’s as if he can’t even tell I’m flirting. At this point, I figure telling Mark can’t hurt, and it just might help.”
Her statement stopped Mark dead in his tracks. “So now I’m part of your plan to amuse yourself with my best friend?”
Jillian set her teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t risk all the history the three of us have together on an amusing little fling. I’m serious about this, Mark. I’m all grown up now, and am perfectly capable of making grown up decisions, and I’ve decided I want to spend the rest of my life with Ashby Haley. I’ve lived in Europe, New Orleans, New York, and dated every man within shouting distance in each of those cities. After all that I’m convinced Ashby is simply the kindest, wisest, funniest, most handsome specimen of man to be found.”
Annabelle was in awe. How could she be so certain?
“Quite a speech, squirt.” Mark tipped her chin up and kissed her square on the lips. “Ashby needs someone who knows her own mind.”
“Gracious! I never in a million years expected you to be this understanding. I was petrified to tell you.”
“Jilly, you can’t honestly be scared to talk to me?”
“You’re right, of course, and I feel like a perfect fool. I was probably more scared you’d tell me I didn’t have a shot. But the important thing is now that you do know.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “Which means you can talk to Ashby and find out what the heck is going on with him.”
“First of all, don’t ever try one of your little flirty tricks on me again. You know I’m immune to your many charms.”
Jillian pouted. “Exactly what I’m worried Ashby will say—if he even realizes I’m flirting with him.”
“Ashby’s used to taking the lead. He may not have figured out your master plan. But I bet he catches on real soon.”
“Because you’ll talk with him?” Excitement popped her eyes wide, giving her the look of an old-fashioned kewpie doll.
Mark snorted. “No way am I getting in the middle of this. You have my blessing—but not my help. You’ll have to reel him in all on your own.”
Annabelle grinned, delighted with her new friend. She gave Jillian a wink. “I’ll bet you do it. I can’t wait to see you in action.”
“Well, why wait?” Mark linked arms with both ladies and drew them down the hall. “We’re on our way to Charles Towne Landing now to meet Ashby.”
Jillian executed a tiny skip. “But that’s precisely where I’m headed! I’ve a few last minute changes, so Ashby told me to pop by to go over them.”
“Mark, we can’t ask Jillian to leave work in the middle of the day. She must have a million cases she’s working on. And I wouldn’t want to get her in trouble with Mr. Prescott.” Annabelle barely got the words out of her mouth before Jillian pulled her into her arms and gave her a big smacking kiss on the forehead.
“I absolutely adore this girl, Mark, and I insist you marry her immediately.”
Annabelle pulled out of the embrace, but not as quickly as she would have three days earlier. “Awful lot of affection to spread around just because I assume you have a good work ethic.”
Jillian’s laughter rippled down the hallway. “A good work ethic? Annabelle honey, you are priceless! I love you for thinking little old me has the brains to be a lawyer. I must say, you’re the very first person I’ve ever met who didn’t jump to the conclusion I spend my days eating chocolates and shopping for shoes.”
Annabelle was shocked. How could anyone mistake this dynamo for a lady of leisure? “The thought never crossed my mind, I assure you. Let me take another stab—you don’t work here?”
“I’d die of boredom in ten minutes cooped up in here all day. And the dress code simply doesn’t suit me.” She ran a hand down her tulip pink chiffon sundress.
“Jillian has her own business,” Mark interjected. “She’s an event planner. Best in Charleston, if you ask me.”
“I’m not putting in all this work on the Magnolia Ball out of the goodness of my heart, or even my mother guilting me into it. There happens to be a very healthy check with my name on it I’ll collect right after the ball.”
“And here I thought you were working on it just to be thrown together with Ashby,” Annabelle said slyly.
Jillian’s face was a mask of innocence. Only the gleam in her eyes gave a glimpse of her true motivation. “Enough about me. Why on earth are you two going out to Charles Towne?”
Annabelle was curious as well. This must be why Mark turned down Prescott’s dinner invitation. She was at a standstill until the Historical Society opened, and willing to go along with whatever he had in mind.
“It’s a must-see for Annabelle’s article. I thought I’d show her around, and then we’re bringing Ashby back to my house to light up the grill. If you’re in the mood for burgers and a damn fine potato salad, you’re welcome to come along and harass the lad to your heart’s content.”
Jillian didn’t hesitate, or bother to check her calendar. “Bit of a back-handed invitation, but I’m not proud. Of course I’ll come. I haven’t seen you in months, and I want to hear about every little thing that kept you away for so long. Not to mention, your potato salad is legendary.”
Annabelle dropped her jaw in mock surprise. “You mean you can cook? Now I don’t know how I can possibly resist you.” She was only partially kidding. As she peeled back each layer, Mark was more and more intriguing. Desirable and yet a complete mistake, both in timing and locale. What was she doing spending more time with him, when every moment together sucked her inexorably closer to falling for him? She was already much too close to the edge of that particular cliff, and yet unable to back away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mark threw his arms wide. “Welcome to Charles Towne Landing.”
Annabelle spun in a slow circle in the middle of the clearing, a slight frown on her forehead. “You’re telling me this is the original Charleston? All I see are squares of what I’m guessing is a vegetable garden.”
“Good guess. Bet you don’t see many of those in New York.” Mark drew her forward to the edge of the clearing and pointed through the forest surrounding them. “A little band of English settlers dropped anchor out past those trees way back in 1670. Ten years later they moved to the other side of the river and created Charleston.”
“This is really more a spot for hard core history buffs, isn’t it? I mean, there isn’t anything very exciting to attract the average tourist.”
Yeah, he’d heard that before. But he hoped he could get Annabelle to see past the what was left today to the stamp of history embedded in the soil.
“It’s not an amusement park, for crying out loud. You have to feel it.” Mark crouched down and let a handful of dirt sift through his fingers. “Let the history and the amazing fortitude of the early settlers seep into your pores. Tiny settlements were the foundation of our country. The hardships they endured, the strength of their convictions, their bravery. Imagine standing on this spot in 1670, along with maybe thirty other people. The entire country, most of which you don’t even realize exists yet, stretches out before you. No other cities for hundreds of miles, and no real civilization at all on this side of the Atlantic. And yet they persevered.” He stood and dusted off his hands. No matter how many times he came here, it always gave him a thrill to stand on the echoes of history.
“I see your tour guide persona has popped to the surface again,” Annabelle said dryly.
“What can I say?
I’m a sucker for history and I love Charleston. It’s a part of me I can’t turn off. Almost as if I’ve spent so many years in libraries researching that a valve has to open every now and again and let off a little intellectual steam.”
“I think it’s a charming habit.” Annabelle threw her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “As a matter of fact, I think you are quite charming, Mr. Dering.” She kissed him soundly, a deep kiss that left them both breathing heavily.
He nibbled his way over to her ear. “Maybe we should step back into the trees and give it another try.”
“Mark, this is a public place!” She laughed as she pulled away.
He swept her into his arms and spun her around. “Public is a relative term. We haven’t seen anyone else since we got here except Jillian and Ashby, and they’re inside. Hell, if Jillian’s master plan is working, they might be doing the same thing that we are right now.”
“I doubt it. But regardless, they could come back out at any minute. Put me down.”
He slowly slid her along the length of his body until her toes touched the ground. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. ‘While I breathe, I hope.’ ”
She looked at him blankly. “What?”
“State motto. Fits the moment. Last bit of tour guide wisdom I’ll share with you today, I promise.”
“Thank goodness.” She drew her hand across her forehead with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I can only handle so much at one time.”
Mark took her hand and led her down a dirt path lined with scrub pines. If he took her deep enough into the forest, he was sure he could convince her to part with a few more kisses.
“Is there anything else here I should see? Or anything I should know for the article?”
He elbowed her in the ribs. “First you mock my knowledge, and then in the next breath you try to pick my brain?”
“I’m complex,” she sassed back. “Answer the question.”
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