Chapter 11
B rent headed downstairs to find Felicity. He had to admit that he was a bit apprehensive. The other night during the storm, he’d felt very connected to her. But yesterday, she’d been so busy with the knitting club and helping Darlene that they didn’t have a chance to talk at all. He’d gone over to the nearby town of Moonbeam Bay, did some research, and went to the historical alcove at the re-opened Cabot Hotel. It had been late when he made it back to Magnolia Key and he hadn’t wanted to disturb Felicity at that hour.
But today he wanted to see her. Talk to her. See if the connection was still there, or was it something he’d imagined.
He approached Felicity as she cleared a table after breakfast. “Morning.” He was pleased she greeted him with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Brent. There’s still some breakfast in the kitchen. I could get you some.”
“No, don’t go to any trouble. But I really should watch the time when I’m doing research. Looks like I missed the actual breakfast time again. I’ll grab an early lunch.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. And I was thinking about heading over to Dale’s shop to look through more of his historical files. Would you like to join me?” Say yes .
She looked up, her eyes apologetic. “I’d love to, but Gran asked me to watch the B&B while she runs some errands. I promised her I would.”
He nodded, disappointed. “No worries. I can handle the research on my own for a bit. You take care of things here.”
“I miss working with you. Guess we just both got busy. But be sure to let me know if you find out anything interesting.”
“Will do. Maybe we can connect back up later.”
“I’d like that.”
With that, he turned and went outside, stepping onto the porch. A few couples sat out on the comfortable chairs on the deck, enjoying their coffee. A fishing boat chugged by out on the bay. Just simple things that made him smile. Of course, a lot of things made him smile since he’d come to the island.
The short walk to Second Finds allowed him to enjoy the nice breeze and the quaint charm of Magnolia Key’s main street. He entered the shop, the bell above the door announcing his arrival.
Dale looked up from behind the counter, a smile spreading across his face. “Brent! Good to see you again. How’s the research going?”
He approached the counter, returning Dale’s smile. “It’s going well, thanks to your help. I was hoping to take another look through your historical files, if that’s all right.”
“Of course! You know you’re always welcome to dig through them. Find anything particularly interesting so far?” Dale asked.
“Not a lot. And I went over to Moonbeam Bay yesterday to do some research on that area. Can’t have the whole book I’m working on just be about Magnolia Key.” He grinned. “Anyway, I’m back today to try and see if I can find out more about Lawrence’s visits.”
“Feel free to dig through any of the boxes in the back. Most are labeled, but I do have some that are just piled there because I haven’t had time to go through them and sort and file.”
“Thanks, Dale.”
“Anytime. It’s not every day we get a historian digging into the island’s past. If There’s anything else I can do to help, just let me know.”
With a grateful nod, he made his way to the back of the shop, where Dale kept his collection of historical documents and records. He settled in, ready to immerse himself in the search for more clues about Prince Lawrence and his connection to Magnolia Key.
Darlene walked up the winding path to Eleanor’s house, admiring the meticulously tended garden. Eleanor could not abide by an errant weed or withered blossom, and her garden shone under her caring hand. She swore the flowers seemed to stand at attention, each petal perfectly aligned as if waiting for Eleanor to come out and inspect them.
She knocked on the door, and Winston’s excited barking came from inside. Eleanor opened the door, her silver hair neatly pinned back. “Darlene, come on in. I’m glad you called. I’ve just put the kettle on for tea.”
As she stepped inside, Winston bounded over, his whole body wiggling in excitement and tail swishing through the air. She bent down to pet him, her knees protesting slightly, and scratched behind his ears. “Hello, Winston. You’re looking as handsome as ever.”
Eleanor led her to the sitting room, where a tray with a teapot and cups awaited them. As she poured the tea, Eleanor glanced at Darlene. “I was expecting that you’d call.”
“You were?”
“Of course. Ever since I gave Felicity a non-answer to her question about Prince Lawrence. I could tell she knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth. I knew you’d come to call.”
She nodded, accepting the cup of tea. “Yes, that is why I came to visit. I feel terrible that I know something that could help solve their mystery. But it’s not my story to tell.” She sighed, taking a sip of the warm, fragrant liquid. “I’m afraid they are close to finding out on their own, though.”
Eleanor settled into her chair, her expression pensive. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. The past has a way of resurfacing, no matter how deeply we try to bury it.” She tapped her fingers on the armrest, a habit Darlene had seen countless times over the years.
“Felicity and Brent are determined to uncover the truth about Prince Lawrence’s connection to Magnolia Key,” she said, setting her cup down on the saucer. “At first, I was pleased that Felicity was helping Brent. It seemed to pull her out of her… mood. I’ve never seen her like how she was when she first got to the island this summer. Just not herself. Worn out. But since working with Brent, her eyes light up again. But they’ve already found so many clues. I worry that they’ll stumble upon the whole story soon.”
Eleanor’s gaze drifted to the window, where the sunlight filtered through the lace curtains. “It’s a delicate situation, Darlene.”
She leaned forward, her voice soft. “I understand your reservations. But maybe it’s time for the truth to come out? Come out on your timetable instead of from someone else?”
“I had hoped to take the secret to my grave. I can’t abide by scandal tied to the Whitmore name.” Eleanor’s eyes met hers, a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. “And you know Jenna? The woman who recently moved to town?”
“Of course.”
“She and Nash found some letters hidden in the floorboards of her cottage when she was renovating it.”
“She did? I haven’t heard a word about it.”
“The letters were… Vera’s.”
“Vera?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your great-aunt’s?”
“Yes, Vera lived in that cottage for a while. I guess when she was… ah… communicating with Lawrence.” Eleanor let out a small sigh. “Jenna did say they would keep it secret, though. Not tell anyone.”
“That was good of them. But still, more and more information is showing up.” She looked directly at Eleanor. “And I feel horrible keeping what I know from Felicity and Brent when they’re researching so hard to find out the whole connection to the island and its history.”
“Who knew the secret I told you so long ago when we were just schoolgirls would come to light so many years later?” Eleanor frowned. “I do feel badly putting you in the middle of all this. But I need some time to think about how to approach this. It’s not a decision I can make lightly.”
She reached out, placing a hand on Eleanor’s arm. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what you decide.”
As they finished their tea, the conversation turned to lighter topics—the upcoming events on the island, the latest gossip from the knitting club, and the big storm that came through the other day. But the unspoken truth lingered in the room, a reminder that the past had a way of shaping the present, no matter how hard they tried to keep it hidden.
Long after Darlene left, Eleanor sat in her parlor with Winston at her feet. She strongly disliked that Darlene was caught in the middle of all this. Had she known all those years ago when she had confided in Darlene that it would all come up at this stage of their lives, she would have kept the secret to herself. Her own family had rarely talked about it. After Vera left, it was like she never existed.
She didn’t know what really happened. If Vera had left on her own, or if they’d sent her away to avoid any scandal. She had overheard her father talking about Vera a few times. Mentioning what a disappointment Vera was and if the town found out, their name would be disgraced.
And after Jenna had come to her with the letters she found hidden in her cottage, Eleanor knew that the scraps of conversations she’d heard over the years were true. Vera and Lawrence were involved. How involved, she wasn’t certain.
She’d never found out where Vera went or what happened to her. She might never find out. All she knew was her family was bound and determined to keep whatever Vera did and whatever happened to her a secret.
And so far, they’d managed to do that over the years. But that Brent fellow was a sharp one. He knew how to do his research. He was bound to find out about the pendant. The one Tori had found in the theater. Vera’s pendant.
There had been some scandal about how the pendant had gone missing. Accusations thrown around.
Only, the pendant hadn’t been stolen or lost. Lawrence had secretly given it to Vera. As the years went by, Vera actually wore it in a production at the theater. Not that anyone knew she was wearing that pendant. To her, it sounded like a gutsy move, but then she’d heard her father say that Vera didn’t have a lick of sense.
But if all this came out, the Whitmore name would be tarnished. She didn’t want that. But she also didn’t want Darlene to have to keep secrets from her granddaughter or feel like she was lying to Felicity.
The lie of omission. She knew about that one herself.
She let out a long sigh. Why couldn’t things like this just be kept in the past? Buried where they belonged.
Winston rolled over and stared up at her as if he was empathizing with her, his tail thumping slowly against the floor. She reached down and petted him and he settled back down for another snooze. He was getting older and slowing down some—but then, so was she.