Chapter Six
It was Trent’s first séance. He sincerely hoped it would be his last. There was simply no gracious way to decline attending. When he suggested that perhaps this was a family evening, Coco merely laughed and patted his cheek.
“My dear, we wouldn’t think of excluding you. Who knows, it may be you the restless spirits choose to speak through.”
The possibility did very little to cheer him up.
Once the children were tucked into bed for the evening, the rest of the family, along with the reluctant Trent, gathered around the dining room table. The stage had been set.
A dozen candles flickered atop the buffet. Dime store holders cheek by jowl with Meissen and Baccarat. Another trio of white tapers glowed in the center of the table. Even nature seemed to have gotten into the spirit of things—so to speak.
Outside, the rain had turned into a wet fitful snow, blown about by a rising wind. As warm and cold air collided, thunder boomed and lightning flickered.
It was a dark and stormy night, Trent thought fatalistically as he took his seat.
Coco had not, as he’d secretly feared, worn a turban and a fringed shawl. As always, she was meticulously groomed. Around her neck, she did wear a large amethyst crystal, which she toyed with constantly.
“Now, children,” she instructed. “Take hands and form the circle.”
The wind knocked at the windows as C.C. slipped her hand into Trent’s. Coco took his other. Directly across from him Amanda grinned, the amusement and sympathy obvious as she linked with her aunt and Suzanna.
“Don’t worry, Trent,” she told him. “The Calhoun ghosts are always well behaved around company.”
“Concentration is essential,” Lilah explained as she closed the gap between her eldest and youngest sister. “And very basic, really. All you have to do is clear your mind, particularly of any cynicism.” She winked at Trent. “Astrologically, it’s an excellent night for a séance.”
C.C. gave his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze as Coco took over.
“We must all clear our minds and open our hearts.” She spoke in a soothing monotone.
“For some time I’ve felt that my grandmother, the unhappy Bianca, has wanted to contact me.
This was her summer home for the last years of her young life.
The place where she spent her most joyous and most tragic moments.
The place where she met the man she loved, and lost.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “We are here, Grandmama, waiting for you. We know your spirit is troubled.”
“Does a spirit have a spirit?” Amanda wanted to know and earned a glare from her aunt. “It’s a reasonable question.”
“Behave,” Suzanna murmured, and smothered a smile. “Go ahead, Aunt Coco.”
They sat in silence, with only Coco’s voice murmuring over the crackle of the fire and the moan of the wind.
Trent’s mind wasn’t clear. It was filled with the way C.C.
had fit in his arms, with the sweet and generous way her mouth had opened to his.
The way she had looked at him, her eyes clouded and warm with emotions.
Emotions he had recklessly stirred in her.
Guilt almost smothered him.
She wasn’t like Marla or any of the women he had coolly romanced over the years. She was innocent and open and, despite a strong will and a sharp tongue, achingly vulnerable. He had taken advantage of that, inexcusably.
Not that it was entirely his fault, he reminded himself. She was, after all, a beautiful, desirable woman. And he was human. The fact that he wanted her—strictly on a physical plane—was only natural.
He glanced over just as she turned her head and smiled at him. Trent had to fight down a foolish urge to lift her hand to his lips and taste her skin.
She touched something in him, damn it. Something he was determined would remain untouched. When she smiled at him—even when she scowled at him—she made him feel more, want more, wish more, than any woman he’d ever known.
It was ridiculous. They were miles apart in every way. And yet, with her hand warm in his as it was now, he felt closer to her, more in tune with her, than he’d ever felt with anyone.
He could even see them sitting together on a sunny summer porch, watching children play on the grass. The sound of the sea was as soothing as a lullaby. The air smelled of roses climbing up the trellis. And of honeysuckle, growing wild where it chose.
He blinked, afraid his heart had stopped. The image had been so clear and so terrifying. It was the atmosphere, he assured himself. The candles flickering, the wind and lightning. It was playing games with his imagination.
He wasn’t a man to sit on the porch with a woman and watch children. He had work, a business to run. The idea of him becoming involved with a bad-tempered auto mechanic was simply absurd.
Cold air seemed to slap him in the face. As he stiffened, he saw the flames of the candles lean dramatically to the left. A draft, he told himself, as the cold chilled him to the bone. The place was full of them.
He felt C.C.’s shudder. When he looked at her, her eyes were wide and dark. Her fingers curled tight around his.
“She’s here!” There was both surprise and excitement in Coco’s voice. “I’m sure of it.”
In her delight, she nearly pulled her hands free and broke the chain. She had believed—well, had wanted to believe—but she had never actually felt a presence so distinctly.
She beamed down the table at Lilah, but her niece had her eyes closed and a faint smile on her lips.
“A window must have come open,” Amanda said, and would have bolted up to check if Coco hadn’t hissed at her.
“No such thing. Sit still, everyone. Sit still. She’s here. Can’t you feel it?”
C.C. did, and wasn’t sure whether she should feel foolish or frightened. Something was different. She was certain that Trent sensed it, as well.
It was as though someone had gently closed a hand over her and Trent’s joined ones. The cold vanished, replaced by a soothing, comforting warmth. So real was it that C.C. looked over her shoulder, certain she would see someone standing behind her.
Yet all she saw was the dance of fire and candlelight on the wall.
“She’s so lost.” C.C. let out a gasp when she realized it was she herself who had spoken. All eyes fixed on hers. Even Lilah’s lazily opened.
“Do you see her?” Coco demanded in a whisper, squeezing C.C.’s fingers.
“No. No, of course not. It’s just...” She couldn’t explain. “It’s so sad,” she murmured, unaware that tears glistened in her eyes. “Can’t you feel it?”
Trent could, and it left him speechless. Heartbreak, and a longing so deep it was immeasurable. Imagination, he told himself. The power of suggestion.
“Don’t close it off.” Coco searched desperately for the proper procedure. Now that something had actually happened, she hadn’t a clue. A flash of lightning had her jolting. “Do you think she’ll speak through you?”
At the opposite end of the table, Lilah smiled. “Just tell us what you see, honey.”
“A necklace,” C.C. heard herself say. “Two tiers of emeralds flanked by diamonds. Beautiful, brilliant.” The gleam hurt her eyes. “She’s wearing them, but I can’t see her face. Oh, she’s so unhappy.”
“The Calhoun necklace,” Coco breathed. “So, it’s true.”
Then, as if a sigh passed through the air, the candles flickered again, then ran straight and true. A log fell in the grate.
“Weird,” Amanda said when her aunt’s hand fell limply from hers. “I’ll fix the fire.”
“Honey.” Suzanna studied C.C. with as much concern as curiosity. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” C.C. cleared her throat. “Sure.” She shot Trent a quick look. “I guess the storm got to me.”
Coco lifted a hand to her breast and patted her speeding heart. “I think we could all use a nice glass of brandy.” She rose, more shaken than she wanted to admit, and walked to the buffet.
“Aunt Coco,” C.C. began. “What’s the Calhoun necklace?”
“The emeralds.” She passed the snifters. “There was a legend that’s been handed down through the family. You know part of it, how Bianca fell in love with another man, and died tragically. I suppose it’s time I told you the rest of it.”
“You kept a secret?” Amanda grinned as she swirled her drink. “Aunt Coco, you amaze me.”
“I wanted to wait for the right time. It seems it’s now.
” She took her seat again, warming the brandy between her hands.
“Rumor was that Bianca’s lover was an artist, one of the many who came to the island in those days.
She would go to meet him when Fergus was away from the house, which was often.
Theirs was not precisely an arranged marriage, but the next thing to it.
She was years younger than he, and apparently quite beautiful.
Since Fergus destroyed all pictures of her after her death, there’s no way of knowing for sure. ”
“Why?” Suzanna asked. “Why would he do that?”
“Grief perhaps.” Coco shrugged.
“Rage, more likely,” Lilah put in.
“In any case.” Coco paused to sip. “He destroyed all reminders of her, and the emeralds were lost. He had given Bianca the necklace when she gave birth to Ethan, her eldest son.” She glanced at Trent.
“My father. He was just a child at the time of his mother’s death, so the events were never very clear in his mind.
But his nanny, who had been fiercely loyal to Bianca, would tell him stories about her.
And those he remembered. She didn’t care for the necklace, but wore it often. ”
“As a kind of punishment,” Lilah put in.
“And a kind of talisman.” She smiled at her aunt.
“Oh, I’ve known about the necklace for years.
I’ve seen it—just as C.C. did tonight.” She lifted the brandy to her lips.
“There are earrings to match. Emerald teardrops, like the stone in the center of the bottom tier.”
“You’re making that up,” Amanda accused her, and Lilah merely moved her shoulders.
“No, I’m not.” She smiled at C.C. “Am I?”
“No.” Uneasy, C.C. looked to her aunt. “What does all this mean?”