Chapter Twenty-Three
Alice spent the evening creating a hand-crafted autumnal wreath, an annual tradition she always enjoyed, even though weaving the assortment of fresh greenery into the wires was a challenge.
Her hands were full when her cell phone beeped.
She ignored the incoming call to finish weaving the strands of grapevine through the dried herbs and eucalyptus leaves.
The green and gold leaves were perfectly offset by miniature pinecones and bright red berries.
The phone rang again and she reached for a towel to wipe the grit from her hands before picking it up.
Sebastian’s name lit up the screen, and she sighed. Jack would tell her to block the call, or maybe answer it and tell Sebastian to take a flying leap.
But she was a weakling and took the call. “Hi, Sebastian.”
“Hello, gorgeous! Did you see the statement I released to the press this morning?”
Once again, he wanted to talk about himself, which shouldn’t be a surprise. “I did. Thank you. It was very generous of you.”
“Good! Can I come over?”
“No!” At last, she found a backbone and could sense Jack fist-pumping his approval.
“Are you sure? I never got around to showing you the research Margo found about that Helga lady. I brought it all the way from England.”
She couldn’t help herself. “What is it?”
“It’s hard to describe, but she made an oversized photograph of an old tombstone that’s crammed with information. I didn’t want to send something like that through the mail. I came all the way from England to deliver it in person. You’ll like it. Can I come over? Pretty please?”
She didn’t trust herself alone with Sebastian, but Saint Helga was her Achilles heel and she desperately wanted to know what Sebastian had. She let out a ragged sigh.
“What’s that sigh supposed to mean?” Sebastian asked, and for once he sounded uncertain.
“It means I want to know what Margo found, but I don't want to be alone with you.”
“Then invite the golf guy over. Alice, I threw a major wrench into your life, and I’m glad you found someone to move ahead with. I’m happy for you.”
“That was bad acting, Seb.”
His laughter came through the phone, warm and self-deprecating. “Cut me a break. What happened to us was entirely my fault, and I’ve been bending over backwards to make it up to you. Nagging Margo to take another look at the Saint Helga case was the only way I knew to make amends.”
Her hand tightened on the cell phone as her heart started thumping. “Let me call Jack first, and then you can come over.”
Jack’s presence would ensure Alice wouldn’t do something stupid like fall under Sebastian’s spell again. She called Jack, who was up to his knees fiddling with the waterfall basin. He was busy, but instantly vowed to come straight over once he heard what she wanted.
Jack must have broken every speed limit in the county, because he arrived less than ten minutes later.
She was hanging the autumnal wreath on the front door when the tires on his obnoxious truck squealed as he turned into the parking lot.
The engine cut off, his truck door slammed, and she turned to greet him.
His expression looked like a Viking intent on pillage as he stalked toward her. Dirt and sweat streaked his face, mud caked his boots, and a glint lit his steely eyes. “Nice wreath,” he said. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be over in a few minutes.”
She led him inside, and Jack kicked the door closed, cupped her face between his palms, and kissed her. He tasted like coffee and smelled like perspiration mixed with a hint of Irish Spring soap. She didn’t mind. Jack was a real man and smelled like one.
He went on and on kissing her, his breathing growing deeper until he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. “I like that you called me for help,” he said. “I won’t ever let that pompous creep take advantage of you again.”
Jack’s expression was so grim that she needed to lighten the mood. “My knight in shining armor?”
He laughed a bit and flashed her a wink.
“It’s how every man secretly thinks of himself.
Alice, you don’t need anyone to save you.
You’ve taken some hits lately but survived it all without losing an ounce of dignity.
You are pure class and can outshine all the Tuckers and those tired old professors on campus.
Alice, you’re the kind of woman Jane Austen only dreamed about writing. ”
A rush of happiness bloomed inside. It was the nicest compliment she’d ever had, and it was delivered by a man dirty from the golf course, who lacked all appreciation for fine literature or cultured manners, but she adored him all the same.
Even though he just tracked mud across her hardwood floors. She handed him a damp towel to clean his hands while she took care of the floor.
“I was mucking with the fountain,” he grumbled while taking his work boots off. “I’ve had problems with it since the beginning and am sick of wading in to fix that pump.”
Alice listened to his woes while swiping a bit of dirt that got smeared on her gauzy floral skirt, but it was easy enough to get off. She’d just finished the job when Sebastian knocked.
Jack bounded in front of her in his stocking feet to answer the door. “Hey there, Sam,” he greeted.
Sebastian ignored the use of his real name and only had eyes for Alice as he stepped inside, holding a slim cardboard tube beneath his arm. His gaze flicked down her wrap dress with butterfly sleeves and a floaty skirt.
“I love a vintage chintz pattern,” he said, his voice warm with appreciation as he nodded to the pastel tones of her dress. “There’s nothing quite so feminine as a cottagecore wrap dress. I hope they stay in style forever.”
“What did Margo give you?” Jack demanded.
Sebastian ignored him and proudly extended the skinny tube toward Alice, as if presenting her with the sword freshly pulled from the stone. “For you, my dear. I don’t know what to make of it, but Margo swears you’ll like it.”
Alice grabbed the tube and wiggled a large roll of paper from its interior. It was a photograph, big enough to cover her entire dining table.
“It’s a life-sized photograph of a tombstone from Yorkshire,” Sebastian said, grabbing a candlestick to anchor a corner of the curling photograph.
Jack placed additional candlesticks on the other three corners.
“Margo hired a commercial photographer to go out to the cemetery and make a life-sized image of the Denby family tombstone. She thinks it might prove something.”
This was the first Alice had heard of the name Denby. “Why does she think this would have anything to do with Reid’s Roost?”
Sebastian retrieved a slip of paper from his pocket. “Margo cross-referenced the names Reid and Helga from archival records of the 1660s and was able to come up with this tombstone, the only documentation of the two names in such close proximity. She thinks this might relate to your settler.”
The photograph showed a ledger tombstone, the sort of large flat stone used for family plots with room for plenty of inscriptions. Scaley white lichen marred the surface. Centuries of wind and rain eroded much of the slate, and the inscriptions were blurry but still legible:
Beneath this stone lays the body of Lord William Reid Denby, who departed this life on 18 Dec 1668, aged 82.
Also his wife Mary Elizabeth Denby, died 12 Feb 1648.
Also his son William George, aged 2 years.
Also his son William James, aged 4 months.
Also his son William Reid Denby, who departed this earth in 1659 in his 36th year, beloved husband of Helga.
Alice folded her arms and stared hard at the stone. This was no smoking gun; it was merely a record of a family with too many dead children and a single reference to someone named Helga.
“The etchings are in different styles of fonts,” Alice said. “That’s surely because people’s names were added over the decades by new engravers.”
She started to pace and kept thinking aloud.
“There’s no record of Helga’s death here, and the letter I found written in 1672 indicated that she sailed for Virginia because she still hoped for a child.
Somebody named R. Santos built the Roost a decade earlier and carried quite a torch for Helga.
He possibly scratched her name in the window and made an infinity symbol. ”
Jack pointed to the last line on the tombstone. “The guy she was married to in England died in 1659, but why did she wait thirteen years to sail to America? What was holding her back?”
It was impossible to guess the motives for people who died hundreds of years ago.
Could it have been a forbidden love affair?
Lack of money to make the journey? Reid Santos seemed rich enough to build a fine house with expensive diamond-paned windows.
He was able to get a license to operate the ferry in Jamestown, so he would have been one of the wealthiest men in the village. Money should have been no obstacle.
Alice turned to Sebastian. “Was Margo able to find any evidence of someone named Reid Santos? When I looked in February, I couldn’t find anything, but I was searching in the wrong decade.”
“She looked and came up empty,” Sebastian said. “It’s like the guy came out of nowhere.”
Alice nodded. “The name Santos seems a mismatch for the early settlers of Jamestown. It sounds Spanish. Could he have been one of the survivors of the Spanish Armada who washed ashore in England? I heard there were quite a few who made it ashore and had to live their lives on the run.”
Sebastian smirked. “The Spanish Armada was wiped out in 1588. You’re a hundred years off, darling.”
“Don’t call her darling,” Jack said.
“No chest-thumping, please,” Alice said, still staring hard at the old tombstone.
The Denby family patriarch and his only surviving son both shared the middle name of Reid.
Could the Reid Santos who built the Roost have been an illegitimate son of the Denby patriarch?
Could that account for a forbidden romance with Helga and why he hid Helga’s name in code?
Falling in love with his brother’s wife would certainly be a reason to hide his love for Helga.
“Well?” Sebastian asked. “Do you think you can make anything out of this?”
“I don’t know, but thank you for bringing this to me. The Denby family is new to me, and now I’ve got another lead to follow.”
“Anytime,” Sebastian tossed off. “You look great, Alice.”
“So do you,” she instinctively replied, and Sebastian preened.
“It’s from three months baking under the Mediterranean skies,” he said. “The production company had me in total lockdown at the rehab place. They paid for a fitness coach and an esthetician to get my skin in shape. It’s not easy being this gorgeous.”
“It’s not easy stopping myself from punching you in the throat,” Jack muttered, but Alice waved the comment away.
“I’m serious, Sebastian. Are you okay? Really?”
Sebastian dropped the cocksure grin. “Going through detox was the worst nine days of my life. They kept me there for three months to make sure it stuck. Now it’s up to me to walk the straight and narrow.
I’m clean now. I’ve got endless regrets, but what happened to you is at the top of the list. It’s why I hounded Margo to come up with something about your mysterious Helga, but maybe it won’t lead to anything after all.
Tell me what you want, Alice. Order me to go fetch you pearls from the east or a bit of moondust from outer space.
If it’s within my power, I’ll get it for you. ”
Alice had a ready answer. “I want my name back on the movie credits for Emma.”
Sebastian grinned. “Already done.”
“It is?” Hope bloomed inside, triggering a burst of joy so powerful it felt like she could float. Sebastian gave a smug smile.
“I told Graham to get your name added back to the credits or I was going to bail on season two of The King’s Redemption.”
“Can you do that? I thought you were under contract.”
Sebastian gave a nonchalant shrug. “It wouldn’t be easy, but the studio would rather keep me happy than hire lawyers to fight over small potatoes.
Not that you’re small potatoes!” he rushed to say.
“Anyway, your name is back in the movie credits, and I’ll do whatever humanly possible to restore your reputation. ”
Jack didn’t seem impressed. “I’d be more impressed if you fired Graham for leaking Alice’s photo to the press.”
Alice drew in a sharp breath. From the moment she’d arrived in England, Graham Garfield had slithered around Sebastian like a shadow—always watching, always pulling strings. She would love nothing more than to see him face consequences for ruining her career. She turned to Sebastian, hope rising.
But he only gave an exaggerated sigh and waved a hand. “Darling, don’t ask me to do that. Sacking Graham would be an absolute nightmare. He’s a bit of a snake, but he gets things done. Finding a new agent now would be such a headache.”
Alice blinked. The words stung, even if they weren’t a surprise. Sebastian's charm had always masked a certain laziness when it came to taking responsibility.
Jack didn’t bother with diplomacy. “The man torched her reputation while you were off snorting coke. And you're still letting him run your career?” His voice was low but fierce. “Grow a spine.”
Sebastian wrinkled his nose as he glanced at her. “Honestly, Alice—what do you see in this guy?”
He sounded genuinely baffled, but Alice locked gazes with Jack.
She saw a man. His shirt was filthy from a long day at the worksite and his arms were scarred with years of needle marks from treating his hemophilia, but he never let adversity blot out his dreams. He was a man who worked hard, planned ahead, created jobs, and could laugh at himself as easily as he conquered every obstacle in his path.
“I see a man I’ve been very lucky to meet,” she said, never looking away from Jack’s gaze.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as affection lit a fire in them. “Right back at you, Professor.”
She basked in that affection shining in his eyes. He would be leaving soon, and even as she dreaded losing him, memories of their golden, bittersweet summer would linger forever.