Page 14 of Moonshine and Magnolias
“We might want to play that up some, see what you can get out of her. Damn, she’s hot. Even with those weird eyes.” Hal waved a finger in front of his own face. “What’s that called?”
Apparently his brother thought Rob was a walking encyclopedia. In this case, he was right, since Rob had come across historical figures with the condition. “Heterochromia. When the irises are different colors. Partial in her case.” One was brown, the other brown and green.
“It’s freaky to look at, but I could get used to it for the rest of the view.” Hal pointed out the window. “Turn right at the next light. Good thing small towns take so long to change. The rock formation Uncle Louis described in his journal might still be there.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if X really did mark the spot?” Rob turned the car onto a side street surrounded by lush green lawns. The clear blue sky promised a day of sunshine. Rain would have been more appropriate for his mood. “Just once I’d like to have a normal family vacation where I don’t have to crawl around dusty archives or dig near alligators.”
“If we don’t find the treasure at the house, we can compare the journal with our pictures and find a new search area. My gut tells me whatever Uncle Louis left behind is somewhere in the walls of the inn. I can’t believe Maybelle Clayton died the week before we were supposed to arrive. Don’t say it.” Hal held up his hand. “We needed a break before we started this part of the trip. How could we know the old woman would keel over while we were chasing beach babes?”
Rob had stayed in the hotel room, diligently reading through his uncle’s diaries, while Hal had showed up only to shower and change clothes. “We could have not chased the beach babes. And by we, I mean you.”
“Whatever.”
Rob rolled to a stop next to a sprawling one-story building. Gold columnsdecorated the porch by the front door and a row of carts sat waiting for the people milling about with golf bags swung over their shoulders.
This did not bode well. In the distance, Rob spotted a glimpse of a large, gray rock standing sentry in the middle of the gently rolling, definitely man-made landscape.
“The granite is so much a part of the landscape that it almost escapes notice beneath the beauty of the Georgia oak,” Hal quoted from the journal and let out a quick exhale. “Not so much anymore. Damn.”
Rob rested his hands on the steering wheel, tapping his finger while he sorted his thoughts. “This is the last time I’m doing this, Hal. I’m serious. The chances of us finding whatever Uncle Louis lost are miniscule, and I’m not going to ruin the rest of my life looking for something that might not even exist.”
“Weren’t you the one who told me that people are still uncovering Civil War heirlooms? Lost silver ewers and family treasures and gold coins? Come on. We still have to look.” Hal closed the car door behind him. “I bet the Angels Eyes are gemstones. Emeralds or sapphires.”
“In literature, any time a curse has to be broken, the treasure has to be returned to its owner.” It was an old argument.
Hal gave the old response. “We can figure that out once we find it. If we don’t, someone else will. Since nothing came up on your research about someone finding a cache of hidden treasure, it’s still there. And don’t you want to fulfill Dad’s dying wish?”
“He’s not even sick.”
“He might be, one day. And then how will you feel if we don’t break the curse and he never reunites with Mom?”
“Same way I feel now. Like he should have paid attention to her instead of spending his time looking for something that might have less value than a cornflake.” Rob shook his head. “Let’s just get this over with. There’s a museum I want to visit.”
Chapter 04
Rob stood in the middle of the lobby, hefting a banker’s box in his hands. He had only a few minutes to decide where to go before the mini evening crowd noticed him. Brandi Clayton’s throaty laugh drifted into the lobby from the parlor. Eulalee’s softer tone joined Brandi’s amid the low music that played as a backdrop.
The library would be quieter, but Wendy would be in there. Most likely alone, unless the new guests had joined her. She usually let her aunt and cousin handle the noisier gathering in the parlor.
He and Hal had spent the better part the past few days tracking the movements of Fountenoy Hall’s small staff. Another part of this job Rob found distasteful, but his brother had teased him about it. “I know you prefer your woman petrified, but you’ll have to study them alive this time,” he joked.
Knowing where the women would generally be at any time during the day would be helpful when he and Hal wanted to snoop in the off-limits parts of the building. Eulalee spent most of her time in the kitchen and helped turn the rooms over when needed. All three women participated in the after-dinner drink hour. Brandi left the grounds whenever she thought Wendy wasn’t watching, but Wendy was always watching.
Which was part of the reason Rob had chosen the library for his evening task. Talking to Brandi about her work at the Hall had given him his current course of action.
He pressed the box against the wall for balance, then slid open the wooden door. Sure enough, Wendy sat with her feet up on the plush brown sofa, her hair in a ponytail spilling over one shoulder and a book resting on her bent knees. For once she looked relaxed and natural, not like she had to be performing for her guests. Their gazes locked when he stepped into the room, and her angled features softened. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, uncoiling a hunger in his belly that he thought he had managed to suppress.
Brandi had laughed with him, had clung to his arm and tossed him flirty looks, but every time, his thoughts had stayed with this cool, aloof woman. Her book acted like a shield between them, but he didn’t need it. His self-reproach stopped him from getting any closer.
“Here for the nightcap hour?” she asked.
“Sure.” Like he needed more unwanted heat. It didn’t surprise him when she placed a piece of paper between the pages before carefully placing the book on the side table. No dog ears or creased spines for her.
“I’ve got lemon-lime soda and grenadine, and some grapefruit juice as mixers tonight. Or you can have your whiskey neat or with some ice.” She kept her back to him, giving him a chance to study the curve of her neck. “What’s your pleasure?”
Her, naked, on a bed. “Ice.”
She gave a soft huff of laughter while she poured. It might be the first time he heard any sounds of amusement from her, aside from her deadpan humor. It was extremely appealing. “I was about to start the spiel on how it’s made with Fountenoy Hall peaches, but you heard that the other morning.” She held out the mason jar, humor glinting in her eyes. “Cheers. Not made with the ones picked a few days ago.”
