Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
W yatt spent the afternoon scrambling to wrap up his duties until his secretary buzzed his phone. Veronica sounded apologetic for the interruption.
“I know you’re swamped, but Jenny Summerlin is here to see you. Shall I send her away?”
“No!” Wyatt said, halfway leaping out of his chair. Jenny was still waffling about moving to Tallahassee, and it worried him. He had approximately five million things to handle before leaving town, but at the top of that list was convincing Jenny to come with him. With luck, she was here to fling herself into his arms, proclaim she couldn’t bear to be parted from him, and would move to Tallahassee.
The reality was far more mundane.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Jenny said as she closed the door. “Raymond Wakefield is being a pest, and you need to know about it.”
So, Jenny wasn’t here to throw caution to the wind and ride with him into the sunset. She had only a bizarre story of Raymond’s latest scheme to get the Firebird Egg by proving that Mrs. Hawkins scammed his grandfather out of the egg.
Wyatt leaned back in his chair as Jenny finished reporting what she knew. “I don’t know exactly what Raymond has up his sleeve, but he’s hired a lawyer and is convinced Mrs. Hawkins is behind the disappearance of the egg. I think you should warn her about this since she’s going to the gala on Saturday night.”
It was a good idea and Wyatt immediately placed a telephone call to the Hawkinses’ home. Although Raymond would make a fool of himself if he insulted Mrs. Hawkins in public, she shouldn’t have to endure that sort of embarrassment.
“There’s no answer,” he said as he hung up the phone, admiring Jenny perched on the side of his credenza.
“Nice cactus garden,” she observed. “Is it going with you to Tallahassee?”
“Of course.”
“I’m surprised you still have it,” she said, looking pleased.
“You shouldn’t be. I’ve always been the sentimental type.” He stood to draw her into his arms, pressing a trail of kisses along her jaw. “Any thoughts on moving to Tallahassee with me?”
She made a low growl of frustration but ended it with a choked laugh. “Why did you have to make everything so complicated by winning that election?”
Her voice was laden with affection and he laughed along with her. This was all his fault. He was the one changing the rules by leaving town and asking her to walk away from her home, her job, and everything she’d ever known.
“I know I’m asking a lot of you,” he said, pulling back to lock gazes with her. “There are three years remaining on the term I’ve just been elected to. That’s a long time to live apart or delay a marriage.”
“Do I have to make this decision now? You only won the election yesterday, and this is a lot to think about. Oh, your mother came by the condo this morning, and guess what?”
“What?”
“She’s going to teach me how to make one of those cakes shaped like a football. She definitely softened up a little since last night. Isn’t that great?”
It was great, but he didn’t miss how cleanly Jenny changed the subject of moving to Tallahassee. He sat in his desk chair, tugged Jenny onto his lap, and listened to her apologize that she was a lousy cook. She went on to say she was a klutz about almost everything if it didn’t involve growing oranges. Jenny was so self-assured until the moment she set a foot off the grove. Then her insecurities came to the fore. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before now?
He put in another call to Mrs. Hawkins and let the phone ring while he nuzzled the side of Jenny’s neck with a trail of kisses. The phone lay forgotten on the credenza even as it continued ringing at the Hawkins house.
“Maybe we can get out of here early and go shop for an engagement ring,” he said between nibbles. “What kind do you want?”
He’d buy her the Hope Diamond if he could, but she wanted a plain gold wedding band. He slid his hands over her hips and continued kissing her.
“Hello?” A curious voice sounded from the telephone receiver.
Wyatt gulped back his surprise and snatched up the receiver. “Dr. Hawkins?” he asked, because it was clearly a man’s voice on the other end.
“No, this is Marcus, his son. Who’s calling, please?”
“Wyatt Rossiter. I was hoping to speak with your mother.” He tilted the receiver out so Jenny could listen in.
A warm laugh sounded on the other end. “You’re too late. My parents just set off on their anniversary trip this morning. It will be forty-five years next October.”
That was odd. Mrs. Hawkins told him she had booked a cruise to celebrate her anniversary later in the year, not now. “Where is she going?”
Marcus sounded a little bemused when he replied. “Originally they planned on a seven-day cruise to Alaska, but all of a sudden they grabbed their passports and are heading to Europe.”
Wyatt’s heart began to thud. “Where in Europe?” Not all countries had extradition treaties with the United States, but his brain was too frazzled to remember the safe havens.
“They’re starting in Paris,” Marcus said. “They packed enough to last for months and are planning to wander wherever the mood takes them. I came over to pick up their cat and take him to my place.”
They were fleeing the country. The moment Wyatt mentioned Svetlana’s name, Mrs. Hawkins must have known the authorities were closing in on what happened back in 1952. Fleeing was a sure sign of a guilty conscience.
Raymond might be on to something after all.
“Okay, thanks, Marcus,” Wyatt said, trying to sound calm as he hung up the telephone. Asking Marcus where Mrs. Hawkins went was a mistake. He was still an officer of the law and couldn’t claim ignorance. He had no proof she was fleeing arrest or hiding from the law, but this didn’t look good.
Jenny set a gentle hand on his back. “Wyatt? What’s wrong?”
A million thoughts whirled as he battled the uncomfortable sensation of wanting to protect a possible suspect in a crime. Something like this needed to be handled carefully, with all parties lawyered up and aware of their rights.
“I think we need to talk to the senator and find out what Raymond has up his sleeve.”
Wyatt had to wait until Thursday before Senator Wakefield got back from Washington. Returning Mrs. Hawkins’s preserved orchid was the perfect opportunity to coax the senator into discussing his long-ago relationship with Millicent.
Wyatt drove while Jenny sat in the passenger seat with the preserved orchid in a sack beside her.
“What are you planning to wear to the gala?” he asked Jenny, because in all the time they’d known each other, he had never once seen her in a dress.
“Something from my mom,” she said. “A little black dress never goes out of style, and I’ve already tried it on. It fits.”
Jenny had been living close to the bone ever since her brother lost his head and destroyed their lives. She shouldn’t have to wear a recycled dress on the biggest night of her life.
“Are you sure? I’ll take you shopping if you want something new.”
A gorgeous flush colored Jenny’s cheeks and she looked as pretty as he’d ever seen her. “I used to play dress-up in my mother’s old clothes,” she said. “My favorite was the little black dress with the sweetheart neckline. I’ve been waiting for decades to wear that dress for real. You’ll see.”
He grinned, because the confidence brimming in Jenny’s voice boded well, and he couldn’t wait to see her all gussied up. Right now, she looked tanned and healthy, the sun starting to bleach her yellowy hair a lighter shade for summer. It spilled over one shoulder in a long, sexy fall and he itched to pull to the side of the road and indulge himself by running his hands through the silky strands.
The sight of Mrs. Hawkins’s orchid on her lap brought him back to reality. The coming discussion with the senator was going to be exquisitely awful. Who wanted to pick and prod at an old man about the woman he once loved and lost?
He slowed the truck as they neared the Wakefield estate. “Drive straight up to the front door,” Jenny prompted. “Raymond is usually out back with the dogs at this time of day, so let’s not alert him that we’re here.”
Wyatt parked and escorted Jenny to the grand entrance. To his dismay, Raymond answered the door, his wife right beside him.
“We’re here to see the senator,” Jenny said. “He agreed to meet us at ten o’clock.”
Raymond blocked their entry. “I heard about that. May I ask your business?”
Wyatt lifted the canvas sack. “We have a gift from an old friend we’d like to give him.”
“You can give it to us and we’ll pass it on,” Raymond’s wife said in her faintly accented voice. The baroness looked typically elegant with her hair in a smooth French chignon and a blue paisley scarf knotted around her throat.
Wyatt shook his head. “We’d like to give it directly to the senator, Claudia.” There was no way he would call her “baroness” or kowtow to a foreign title.
Raymond and his wife practically seethed with curiosity but stepped back to allow them inside. “He’s in the main room,” Raymond said, leading the way to a gathering room that was both lavish and comfortable at the same time. It had the rustic grandeur of a royal Scottish hunting lodge with a massive stone fireplace, timber beams on the ceiling, and comfortable leather seating. The only thing that looked out of place was the Kashmiri tapestry that warmed one wall, a memento of Senator Wakefield’s years in India helping with famine relief.
The senator rose from a chair and cast a newspaper aside. “Jenny!” he boomed. “How are the saplings? Last time I drove past the grove they looked spectacular.”
Jenny stepped forward and kissed the old man’s cheek. “They’ve been thirsty and keeping me busy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Excellent,” the senator said. “I still wish I could have bought you out, though I’m glad you’re back on your feet again.”
“What’s this about a gift?” Raymond asked.
Wyatt ignored the question and kept his gaze fastened on the senator. “The gala to introduce the Firebird Egg to the world is this weekend, and then the auction will be next month in Miami. Do you anticipate bidding on the egg?”
The senator stifled a laugh. “Good heavens, no. That sort of grandiose thing interested my father, never me.”
“But, Dad, it probably belongs to us.” Raymond’s voice was equal parts grievance and urgency. “The gala is going to drum up publicity and try to cement the idea that it belongs to some nobody in Texas.”
“He is going to put it in a cereal box museum!” the baroness said, her voice aghast.
“What kind of man dedicates his life to cereal boxes?” Raymond asked. “He has no class, no heritage, and no right to a Fabergé egg.”
“The arbitration judge ruled otherwise,” Jenny pointed out.
Raymond’s gaze narrowed. “A treasure of incalculable value, one that symbolizes the immortal love between Czar Nicholas and the woman he adored . . . yet a backwater judge thinks it belongs in a cereal box museum.”
“Actually, Mr. Cooper intends to sell it,” Jenny said.
That still wasn’t good enough for Raymond. “Only a vulgarian would cash out a prize like that, and you’re helping him. I heard about that ten percent cut you’re trying to get as a finder’s fee. I’m warning you not to proceed with that silly gala or the auction, because I won’t take it lying down.”
“You will be very sorry if you do,” the baroness warned.
The senator lost all patience. “For pity’s sake, the two of you have been implying things for weeks. If you have a good claim to the egg, spit it out. Right now.”
Wyatt blinked at the anger simmering in the older man’s voice. It was at odds with his carefully cultivated grandfatherly image, and even Raymond seemed a little cowed, though he didn’t back down.
“I’ve got proof that my grandfather legally bought the egg. I’d rather not show my cards prematurely. This is best handled quietly before a judge, but if you let this silly gala and auction go forward, you will regret it. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
Senator Wakefield let out an exaggerated sigh and went to the sideboard to pour himself a drink from a decanted bottle of wine. “Jenny? Wyatt? Can I offer you anything? I think we could all use something to lower the temperature.”
The senator was back to his congenial self. Wyatt and Jenny both declined the drink, but it was time to return the orchid.
“I saw Millicent Hawkins recently,” he said, handing the canvas sack to the senator. “She asked me to give this to you.”
He watched carefully as the senator lifted the clear orb from the bag, the orchid still pristine and perfect inside. Fifty years had passed, but the senator seemed to instantly recognize the bloom. He carried it to the window, where the sunlight illuminated the orchid, forever suspended in the sphere. His expression softened as he gazed at the orchid, and it was as if he’d been transported to a different world . . . a better one, where teenaged dreams could come true.
“I remember this corsage,” he said softly. “I had it special-ordered because Millicent loved lavender. She always wanted to see the lavender fields of France.”
The baroness stepped closer to admire the bloom. “Yes, it’s quite lovely.”
The senator bowed his head and spoke in a reverent tone. “It was a perfect night. Our world was young and innocent and the fires of spring blazed with hope. It was Millicent’s first grand ball, and I picked this flower because it was beautiful and flawless. An orchid looks as if God wanted to create something to represent purity and elegance in a single bloom.”
Raymond visibly cringed. “It’s only a flower, Dad. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
A steely look hardened in the senator’s eyes. “You know what, son? You got the woman you wanted. I didn’t, so shut up when I’m talking.”
The smackdown lashed through the air like a whip. Raymond’s mouth thinned as the senator stormed from the room, the orchid still in his hand. He slammed the door so hard everyone jumped. Raymond looked furious, and the baroness was coolly annoyed as she peered at Jenny.
“Satisfied?” the baroness said. “All you did was stir up old memories that are best forgotten. Millicent Hawkins was no angel, and it’s a shame the senator hasn’t figured that out yet. You should be grateful to us for trying to stop the auction.”
“Oh, I still intend to stop the auction,” Raymond asserted. “I can do it, too.”
Wyatt shook his head. “The judge dismissed your claim with prejudice . You can’t refile, and you’re dead in the water.”
Raymond fumed as he looked at his wife. “You know what? I’ve been trying to spare Dad the embarrassment, but maybe we should let it all come out.”
“Yes,” the baroness said in her chilling voice. “Let it all come out.”