Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
L ater the next evening, Olivia, toting a woven basket, entered the historical society building. Inside the basket, she’d placed a cooler containing deviled eggs and a fruit and cheese board. She wore a floor-length, flower-patterned maxi skirt, and the skirt flowed with every step. For practicality, she chose comfortable ankle boots with a low heel, ensuring stability on uneven ground. Tying the look together, she paired the skirt with a long-sleeved sweater, mismatched socks, and a linen shawl packed in her tote bag.
She found Daniel sorting through a stack of papers at a solid oak table, looking devastatingly handsome in the muted lighting. His navy-blue collared shirt, tucked into fitted jeans, flattered his tall, athletic frame. His forearms were exposed as he rolled up the sleeves, revealing toned muscles that hinted at his active, outdoorsy lifestyle. She imagined those capable arms pulling her close as they shared a slow dance under the moonlight, his work-hewn fingers tilting her chin upward, finding her lips for a kiss.
His dark hair was attractively windswept, as if he had run his hands through it while buried in research. He had draped a brown leather jacket over the back of his chair, and she caught a glimpse of sturdy hiking boots sticking out from where he was sitting.
She drew in a fortifying breath, temporarily speechless at the sight of him. She forced herself to pry her eyes away and set her tote bag and woven basket on the floor.
“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiled, stood, and kissed her. “Did you drive here?”
“I walked. I have my car, but I hardly ever use it these days because everything in town is so close.”
“I have news. I may be onto something explaining Theodore’s background.”
“What is it?” she asked, as they both pulled up a chair, sitting side by side.
He rifled through a stack of yellowed documents. “Here.” He slid a photograph to her—a portrait of a refined gentleman, head held high and shoulders back, displaying a book bearing the family name ‘Weatherly.’
“Theodore Weatherly, the First,” Olivia read aloud. “He wrote poetry?”
“Highly esteemed poetry, from the looks of it. His son carried on the literary tradition impressively.” Daniel arranged another framed photo, this of a young man clad in expertly crafted trousers and a tailored blazer, holding a tome of verse penned under Weatherly.
“Theodore Weatherly, the Second,” Daniel said. “Both father and son made a mark on the poetry scene, which explains the inherited nickname for our dear friend Theodore.”
In amazement, Olivia stared at the photos. “Theodore comes from a long line of esteemed poets. I wonder if he ever got published.”
“Let’s find out.” Daniel disappeared into the aisles, soon to reemerge with a sizable scrapbook. He brushed off the traces of spider silk and handed it to her.
They leafed through newspaper clippings of Theodore’s grandfather’s and father’s accomplishments. Interspersed were essays citing accolades from poetry competitions.
“Well, I’ll be.” Daniel tapped his finger on a particular passage. “Says here, a former US Poet Laureate and literary society patron developed a keen interest in the elder Theodore’s work. Even awarded him a significant cash prize that made headlines.”
The emergence of a prosperous poetic lineage transformed Theodore’s identity as “the third” from an odd curiosity into a rightful inheritance.
Olivia sat back. “Our unassuming friend. Who dreamed he carried such a rich legacy?”
If only seventeen-year-old Lillian could have anticipated what her introverted boyfriend had blossomed into thanks to his literary accomplishments.
As Daniel reviewed more documents, Olivia fixated on his rugged profile—the set line of his jaw, the unrestrained admiration lighting his handsome face when he turned and met her gaze.
“You know,” she pondered aloud, “you should wear more blue. It turns your hazel eyes into a mirror of the summer sky.”
“Is that so?” Amusement sparked a twinkle at the corners of those eyes. “And here I thought you preferred me in green.”
“Your compliment for me, remember?” Her lips curved into a huge smile. “But as long as I get to admire the view, what does it matter?”
“The view, hmm?” He inched nearer. “Far be it from me to deny a lady’s wishes.”
His voice caressed her, rich and smooth, sending delicious shivers down her spine. She angled toward him as the air between them changed, grew charged, alive with possibility.
A noise from the hall made her pause. A window rattling, perhaps, or a creaking door.
“Most likely a draft coming from somewhere.” He drew away, the romantic moment broken, though his eyes glimmered with something intimate and heated.
He stood and restored the documents to their respective locations on the shelves. His gaze met hers, a silent message to stay still.
He crept toward the door, dragged it open, and peered down the hallway. She strained to listen, but the only sound was Daniel’s footsteps.
“Nothing there,” he said after a moment.
His grip on the latch was tight.
“Are you certain?” she asked.
“This is an old building, and there are normal sounds as the place settles at night. I’ve been here many times. No cause for alarm.” His assurance brought a lightness to her chest as he flipped off the lights. “Is it time for our picnic?”
She grabbed her tote bag and basket. “Absolutely. I’m starved.”
“And I’m always hungry.” He tugged on his jacket and smiled. “I drove my car here. Let’s head to the park.”
As they stepped outside, she peered up. The sky had transitioned into a canvas of nuanced hues, oranges and pinks, and deeper shades of blue.
She grabbed her shawl from her tote bag, and he wrapped it around her shoulders.
They arrived shortly afterwards, and Daniel parked at the curb.
The park took on a distinct character at night, with the radiance of street lamps and pale yellow stars.
He brought along a battery-powered lantern to light the picnic area, as well as a cooler and thick, fleecy blanket. They unfolded the blanket, choosing a sheltered corner overlooking a small pond. The pond glimmered beneath a faint moon; its surface occasionally stippled by the circular ripples of a fish’s quiet splash.
The isolated quacking of ducks and the rhythmic chirping of birds created a tranquil background. Dew clung to the lush layer of grass, its blades glistening with droplets of moisture.
“Our discovery tonight calls for a toast,” Daniel proclaimed, pouring sparkling grape cider into paper cups as they situated themselves on the blanket.
“Wait until you taste my deviled eggs. I added a special ingredient.”
“What?”
“Paprika!”
“Don’t they sell paprika in all the grocery stores?”
“This is smoked paprika. The flavor is more intense.” Olivia arranged the eggs on small plates, garnished with dill. As she showcased a spread that included a cheese and cracker board and a fruit platter boasting slices of watermelon and juicy berries, she raised her cup. “To standing on the shoulders of history.”
“And smoked paprika. He took a bite of the deviled egg. “This is delicious!” He tapped his cup lightly against hers. “And a toast to Theodore the Third and my beautiful Ollie.”
No sly flirtation or overplayed charm. He had a simple and genuine interest in her; and he didn’t hide it.
“Are you still superstitious?” He studied her socks. “Do the socks bring you good luck?”
“Some superstitions die hard. Now I wear them out of habit. Or, if I’m honest with myself, it’s a fun way to break away from routine.”
He set down his cup and moved closer. “Shall we continue?”
“With what?”
“With what we started in the historical society building.”
“What was that?”
“A kiss.”
She set down her cup, too. Dragging a ragged breath, she raised her face to within an inch of his. His tongue grazed her lips, coaxing them to open, and she welcomed the invitation.
“I’m glad you’re here with me. This is where you belong.” His lips came down on hers with a challenging resolve. The kiss deepened, sending honeyed tendrils of longing down her spine.
Minutes later, he lifted his mouth. Tenderly, his thumbs stroked her flaming cheeks. She stirred, and he held her closer.
“Don’t move yet, Ollie. I want to stretch this moment out longer.”
She placed a hand on his arm and gazed up at him—his strong, dark eyebrows, his features sculpted with a blend of strength and refinement. He had such an effect on her. He drew her in irresistibly.
“What’s going on behind that handsome face of yours?” she asked.
“I was remembering when we came here as kids.” He turned his palm to enfold her hand in his. “Part of me always saw us ending up like this, together on a starlit night, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the entire world. That held true then, and it holds true now.”
The sheer yearning in his voice caused her pulse to race madly. His words resonated, a confirmation of her reawakening—a thousand moonbeams, bright and shiny.
“Daniel. I’ve wanted this moment, too.” She sat up straighter and spoke louder. She wished for him to hear every word. “Maybe dreams come true. I’m thankful to have you back in my life.”
He smiled, a world of implicit promises shining in his eyes. For several perfect moments under a starlit sky, they lingered in a shared understanding.
Their love for each other had never faded.
Eventually, she turned the conversation to their latest breakthrough, eager to hear his take.
“I bet Emma is aware of Theodore’s family history,” she began, her words breaking the spell of their connection. “She’s totally plugged into him. I’ll ask her.”
“Good idea.” Daniel downed his second cup of cider in one swig. “Theodore evidently doesn’t want anyone to recognize his accomplishments.”
“Most people shout an honorary title from the rooftops. He became much better off financially than the townsfolk realized after those poetry prizes and royalties. Yet he lives humbly.”
“It’s possible that he values humility. His desire for a meaningful life goes beyond material wealth.” Daniel reached for a slice of watermelon. “Now what about Elliot, Victor, and Nora?”
“They may have nothing to do with Lillian,” Olivia replied.
“Those three people have certainly complicated matters. Especially the strange resemblance between the two men. Delilah insisted the guy in the photo was her nephew, Elliot, yet we met Victor face-to-face. It makes you wonder if they’re the same person.”
An hour later, she poured herself another cup of cider. As she and Daniel shared more bites from the fruit and cheese platter, she picked up a wedge of creamy Brie, savoring its smooth texture, and couldn’t resist expressing a subtle “mmm” of approval.
In the middle of their discussion, Daniel’s voice trailed off as he stared past her. She followed his gaze to see none other than the pair of men they’d been discussing.
She assumed the men were Elliot and Victor, side-by-side in an amiable conversation, although one of them had a noticeable limp and held a lit cigarette.
In the light, their resemblances were unmistakable.
Both dressed stylishly. One wore slim grey slacks with a charcoal blazer over a burgundy button-down, adding a polished accent to his features. The other sported midnight-blue jeans and a black leather jacket over a dark turtleneck, the monochromatic palette offsetting deep brown eyes.
Olivia gripped Daniel’s arm. “Talk about coincidence.”
He lifted his chin in acknowledgement as they both came to their feet.
“They could be reflections of each other,” he said. “What are they doing here?”
One man raised a hand in greeting, his movements exuding effortless confidence.
“Hello.” He flashed a disarming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a manner that hinted at a mischievous streak under the refined exterior. He exuded a feline smoothness, from the way his polished dress shoes glided through the grass to the casual drape of his blazer over a single shoulder.
“I’m Elliot Fitzwater.” He extended a hand before gesturing to the other man. “And this is Victor.”
Olivia stiffened, struggling to make sense of it all.
“Victor Steele.” The tip of the cherry-red ember of Victor’s cigarette flared. He took a final drag, then, with a deliberate yet relaxed motion, disposed of it, grinding it out under his heel. A hiss accompanied the extinguished flame, and the faint aroma of tobacco lingered in his wake. There was a worldly weariness to his indifference. “You met me the other day.”
She gaped.
Before the silence stretched too long, Daniel extended a polite nod. “You’ve both been the topic of conversation lately.”
“Why?” Victor asked.
“You’re kidding … For starters, you resemble?—”
“Twins separated at birth?” Victor suggested, earning an awkward pause.
“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.”
“We aren’t brothers.”
Finally, Olivia found her voice. “Then who are you both, exactly?”
“How about we explain?”
Olivia gave Daniel an imperceptible nod. If they stayed standing, she reasoned, a quick exit was possible if these guys made any odd movements.
Daniel’s brow furrowed as he studied them. “Very well.”
How did two people resemble each other so closely, from the dark eyes, closer to black than brown, to the sharp jaws?
Upon further examination, though, Victor limped. Elliot didn’t.
Victor smoked. Elliot didn’t.
She filed the details away, landmarks amidst the dizzying identicalness, and turned to Elliot. “We visited Delilah Fitzwater, and she swore that the man in the photograph at her home was you.”
“My aunt is right.”
“But we also met Victor by the fountain.”
“There is history bonding us together.” Elliot gestured to Victor. “A while ago, Victor and I each did one of those trendy genetic tests mapping out ancestral lineages. We didn’t know each other at that point. However, we discovered we had links to this town with likely origins and extended relatives floating out there somewhere.”
As Elliot spoke, Olivia mused aloud. “Are you long lost cousins?”
“Once our matches aligned, the website encouraged us to email each other. We did, and I wrote it off as mere coincidence that my map overlapped with Victor.” Elliot rocked back on his heels; hands tucked in his pockets. There was an affable, down-to-earth quality about him, despite his refined outward appearance. “I wasted no time tracking down my newly discovered relative.”
Victor leaned against the tree trunk, his posture radiating a quiet intensity. His gaze was penetrating and assessing.
“I spent nearly six months emailing familial matches from the site, plugging my details into genealogy forums,” he said. Meticulous and driven, he seemed the type of man who didn’t rest until he uncovered every scrap of elusive truth.
“How are you two related?” Daniel inquired.
Elliot gazed across the dark pond, a sliver of moonlight illuminating a slight ripple of waves. “We share a great-great-grandfather—a farmer who married a girl from the next town over in 1878.”
Daniel let out a slow whistle, his breath fogging the chilly night air.
“Our planned meeting brought us face-to-face.” Victor shifted his attention to Elliot. “You were looking for more bloody Fitzwater’s while I was trying to find any Sweetwater-tied Steeles.”
“What about Nora?” Olivia asked Victor. “You were driving, and she seemed to hide. Why the secrecy?”
He grinned. “How did you figure out it was me and not Elliot?”
“Nora’s reaction made me assume the driver was you since we’d witnessed your interaction by the fountain,” Olivia replied. “How did you come to meet her?”
“Elliot remembered her from when he lived in Sweetwater Springs. When we bumped into her, she immediately put two and two together,” Victor explained. “First, she assisted with the genealogy hunt, and then she interrogated Elliot about his relatives. She wanted to keep it confidential until she figured out how to connect us. The envelope I passed to her contained additional information from the ancestry website.”
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Elliot chuckled softly, a roguish sparkle in his eye. His far-off gaze suggested a man easily infatuated and distracted by a pretty face. “I wouldn’t mind to getting to know her better. When we were young, we played hide and seek in a maple grove by a stream, and I teased her about making maple syrup. We gathered fallen leaves once, and I gave her a bouquet. I wonder if she remembers.”
Olivia’s mind whirled as she attempted to piece together the puzzle.
“Have either of you heard of a woman named Lillian Beaumont?”
“Nope.” Victor answered quickly.
Elliot paused. “I remember the Beaumont family. They were wealthy, right?”
A flicker of trepidation stirred in her gut—if their ancestral ties truly reached back to Sweetwater Springs’ historic roots, might they know more than they were letting on?
Olivia turned again to Elliot. “Is Delilah, your aunt, aware of Victor?”
“Not yet, although I plan to introduce him soon.”
She reflected on the unpredictable twists securing these lives together across time and chance. “She’ll be overjoyed by this sudden expansion of her family.”
“It’s all peculiar, though,” Daniel said later, after Victor and Elliot had left. “On the surface, their reunion seems plausible enough. But years of archeological work have taught me to question even the most innocent of accepted narratives. I can’t quell the nagging unease that more layers remain hidden beneath these supposed cousins.”
“Why is it peculiar to have distant relatives? With all these ancestry tests nowadays, it’s probably more common than we think,” Olivia replied. “I imagine Victor and Elliot inherited the signature family traits—dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and sharp profiles. Dominant genes, I suppose. Up close and side by side, they don’t look or act nearly as alike.”
She perched closer to Daniel, a novel consideration stirring.
The men had glossed over their backstories. Could more information still mushroom beneath their charming, parallel grins?
Olivia packed the leftover fruit, cheese, and crackers while Daniel folded the picnic blanket. As she handed him the last of the containers and he strode to his car, voices drifted from a path nearby.
She recoiled for a beat. Then she strained to listen to the low-toned dialogue.
“… do you think they believed us?” Victor’s tone floated through the darkness.
“Hard to say …” came Elliot’s measured response.
Olivia edged closer, curiosity spiking.
“Daniel is suspicious,” Victor said. “And Olivia—she sees too much.”
A twig snapped under her foot, and the indistinct murmurs instantly cut off.
Her heart hammered as she remained perfectly still. She tried to hear more, but their voices dropped to garbled whispers, and their footsteps disappeared.
A chill skated down Olivia’s spine as Victor’s words echoed in her mind:
“Daniel is suspicious of us, and Olivia sees too much.”
Her pulse picked up tempo as her earlier wariness now proved justified. What did they have to hide? And why the act of deception over what should be an innocent family disclosure?
She sped back to help Daniel finish gathering their things, relaying the men’s conversation to him.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he absorbed Olivia’s frantic whispers.
“So, my instincts have been correct all along,” he said. “Something isn’t adding up.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Their motivations go beyond bonding over a newly discovered ancestral link. You know better than to take everything at face value, Ollie. Don’t believe everything until you have examined every detail.”
His words echoed the precision of an archaeologist’s methodical approach.
Olivia sighed, realizing this was the opening round of what might develop into an intricate web of intrigue.