Page 123 of The Attic on Queen Street
Instead, a small twitch appeared at the side of his mouth. “You’re right, Mellie.”
“About being wrong?”
“Well, that, but about the other stuff, too. I’ve been a complete idiot. Everything you’ve just said is true. All of it. We’re equally to blame foreverything that’s happened in our marriage. What is it that Yvonne said we should do? Admit it and then take a leap of faith?”
I stared at him, my words of protest dying on my lips. I blinked. “What?”
He stood as well, facing me. “I don’t want a do-over. Unless we can re-create exactly the happiest years of my life so far. And I don’t need or want a new version of you. You’re my Mellie. You’re perfect the way you are—quirks and all—and I don’t want to change a thing.”
“Even my labeling habit?”
“Especially that. I’ve come to realize that a house isn’t a home without the constant clicking of a labeling gun.”
I gave him a wobbly smile. “Then maybe we take that leap of faith and see where we land.”
He pulled me toward him and kissed me the way he used to, and I felt as if I’d been away for a long time and finally found my way home.
I lifted my head. “Do you really think we’re going to be okay?”
He kissed me again, gently this time. “I do. No matter what. As long as we’re together, we’re going to be okay.”
The grandfather clock began to chime, the sound muffled against the carpet. Our eyes widened in mutual surprise before we both turned toward the clock.
“I thought it was broken,” I said.
“Well, it hasn’t chimed or ticked since it fell, so that was my assumption.” Jack looked at his watch. “It’s six thirty. Why would it be chiming now?”
We stood next to the clock, looking down at it, feeling the vibrations from the chimes beneath our feet. I counted ten more chimes as we stood there. “I don’t think it’s going to stop. Maybe we should call Rich and beg him to try again to lift it without the special equipment? Maybe with us helping that would be enough?”
Jack nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. He glanced at Charlotte’s coffin lying on the coffee table. “There has to be a reason why Evangeline is still here and why the clock is chiming now when it hasn’t made a sound since it fell.”
I looked at my phone, confirming that it was now six thirty-two, and then at my watch, noting that the big hand and little hand were both pointed near the six. I jerked my head up. “Wait a minute. Evangeline’s grave marker. The clockface on the front. It showed six thirty.”
Jack met my gaze, a slow smile making its way across his face. “Or the hands are arrows pointing downward.”
I followed his gaze toward the clock, remembering how each time we’d found the Frozen Charlotte, she’d been faceup halfway under the clock’s base. “I think there’s something on the bottom of the clock we’re supposed to see.” We moved behind the clock where it had been pulled away from the wall by Rich and his son, Brian. Etched on the pale wood on the bottom of the clock case were faint lines that had been dug into the surface with a sharp instrument. We could barely make them out.
“Wow. We searched the entire clock for more diamonds but never thought to look here.” Jack squatted closer to better see the indistinct scratches.
“Hang on. I have lead pencils and tracing paper in my craft drawer in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course you do,” Jack said as I stepped over the clock and ran toward the kitchen, returning in less than a minute as the clock continued to chime.
“For the record,” I said, handing him the supplies, “being organized can sometimes come in handy.”
“I never said it can’t.” Jack held the paper over the scratches, gently rubbing the pencil on it until enough of an image had been revealed. He stood, holding the paper so we both could see.
“I don’t understand.” I leaned in closer. “It’s a drawing of the clockface on the gravestone.”
Jack sat back on his haunches. “So, if I were a captain in the Confederacy and I came into possession of a legendary diamond, I’d want to hide it in a separate location just in case the first stash was found. But he chose not to hide it and instead put the cut gems on full display in a collar for a dog belonging to his illegitimate daughter.”
“Maybe he meant for them to be her legacy, and that was thecleverest way to hide them from both sides and ensure she remained in possession of them.”
“But she died before he did. In the fire of 1861.” Our eyes met as we reached the same conclusion. Jack spoke rapidly as if trying to keep pace with his thoughts. “So he hid them in her monument, not expecting to be killed before he could retrieve them after the war.”
“If all of this is correct, there’s no guarantee they’re still there,” I said. “If John told someone, or someone followed the clues he left behind like us, they could be long gone.”
“Or not,” Jack said, his eyes sparkling. With a sudden shout, he picked me up and spun me around. “Either way, it’s one heck of a way to end my book, don’t you think?”
