Chapter 8
Acouple of days had passed since the date with James at the beach. He had kept in touch via text message, explaining that his grandfather”s health situation was more complex than anticipated. A couple of days had turned into what was most likely going to be a week. Clara found herself torn between understanding his circumstances and a lingering sense of uncertainty. Life had taught her to be just a little jaded. She had already been burned once before by a man who claimed to love her. She hated to doubt what James said was true, but that pain from her ex’s betrayal still lingered. In a way, James felt just a little too good to be true. What were the odds a handsome man would show up in town and be interested in her? She tried to quiet the voice telling her she wasn”t worthy of a man like James. But old fears and insecurities can be like stubborn weeds, always sprouting up despite the best attempts to uproot them.
Every morning, Clara woke up to a text from James. Sometimes it was just a simple ”good morning” while other times he”d share anecdotes about his grandfather – a man who sounded strong and stubborn despite his failing health. Their brief conversations felt natural, but without him physically present, Clara couldn”t help but feel a creeping doubt that it was too good to last.
Sitting across from her friend Allison at their favorite lunch spot, Clara couldn”t shake the feeling that she might be getting strung along.
“So, any word from James?” Allison asked, her eyes filled with concern as she sipped her coffee.
Clara sighed, stirring her salad absentmindedly. “He”s been keeping me updated. Things are taking longer than expected, but he says he”s coming back.”
Allison raised an eyebrow, reading between the lines. “Clara, I hate to say it, but do you think he”s genuine? I mean, it”s been a few days.”
Clara looked down, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes. “I don”t know, Allison. I like him, but this waiting game makes me question everything. I believe he’s a nice guy, but I can’t help but wonder if he just isn’t interested. Maybe he doesn’t want to dump me in person.”
Allison reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on Clara”s. “Hey, he brought you roses, right? That”s a good sign. Maybe he”s dealing with some serious family stuff. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Clara nodded, appreciating Allison”s attempt to lift her spirits. “I guess you”re right. I just need to be patient and see how things unfold. I look for the worst.”
“That’s not true. You’re being cautious. I get it. But even if he never comes back, it’s okay. You had a couple of nice dates. There will be more men in your future. He just wasn’t the one. There will be another. I hope you can find the fun in getting to meet new people and experiencing new things. A romantic walk on the beach at sunset is not something you’ll soon forget.”
“And you know what?”
“What?” she asked.
“That was a first for me. Holding hands on the beach is something I thought only happened in romance novels. I actually got to do it. Like you said, even if I don’t see James again, at least I got to experience that.”
“Exactly! That’s what I’m talking about. The next man you date might own a boat. He”ll take you out for a romantic cruise at sunset.”
Clara laughed softly, rolling her eyes at Allison. “I guess I need to come up with some more fantasies. I”ll start a checklist.”
Allison winked at her, sipping her coffee. “I”ve been reading too many romance novels lately. How do you feel about cowboys?”
“Clearly,” Clara teased, appreciating the shift in conversation and the lighthearted atmosphere it brought.
Despite the comforting words and humorous banter, Clara found herself glancing at her phone with the hopes of finding a message from James. She was a lovesick puppy dog.
Their conversation shifted as Clara decided to tell Allison about the journal. “You have to tell me if I”m violating the privacy of a dead woman.”
Allison frowned. “What? Who?”
“Victoria Wentworth. I”ve been reading her journal.”
“Her diary?”
“No, it”s more like a book about a mystery in her family. And romance.”
“I don”t get it,” Allison shook her head.
“Victoria had spent a lot of time looking into her family”s history. She wrote all about her ancestors. From what I”ve gathered, Samuel was from Victoria”s family. He had money and his family was very influential. He fell in love with Eleanor, the daughter of a millworker, living a life of poverty. Victoria wrote about some of the difficulties they endured, but there was no resolution. I don”t know what happened. I don”t know if she knows what happened.”
“Was it her uncle or grandfather?” Allison asked.
“I”m not sure. The journal is a collection of bits and pieces of the story. I haven”t figured out who he was to her just yet, but that”s not the best part.”
“What is?”
“The journal mentions a missing family heirloom, a necklace with ties to the British royal family,” Clara explained in a hushed voice.
Allison leaned in. “A missing necklace linked to royalty? That”s straight out of a historical drama. What happened to the couple, though?”
Clara sighed. “I don”t know. Victoria spent years trying to uncover the mystery. The necklace is said to be worth a lot of money, but its disappearance is shrouded in uncertainty. Victoria believed finding the necklace might unravel the truth behind the couple”s disappearance back in the thirties.”
Allison”s eyes widened with intrigue. “This is like a treasure hunt! Do you think you can find the necklace?”
Clara chuckled, her mind momentarily diverted from her romantic woes. “I don”t know, Allison. I want to know what happened to the couple. I”m so invested in this story. But I need to find Victoria”s other journals.”
“How do you know there are more?”
“I don”t, but I assume there are. Like I said, it”s written like she was doing research. One of the entries mentions what she found before, so I assume there are more journals.”
“Do you think Victoria found the necklace? Maybe it was in her jewelry collection.”
“I don”t know,” Clara sighed. “I would think something like that would have made the news or at least been gossiped about around town.”
“It”s possible the people hired to go through the estate didn”t know what it was they were looking at.”
The idea had merit. “I guess, but what about the couple?”
“Do you think she discovered what happened to them?”
Clara groaned. “I don”t know. I”m dying to find out. I got a little taste of the mystery and I need to know the ending. I have to know if love conquered it all. Did Samuel and Eleanor get to be together?”
“You”re the one that put together that town history section, is there anything in there about this couple or a missing necklace?”
Clara shook her head. “Not that I know of, but I can”t say I”ve gone through every line in the newspapers and books. I didn”t know there was something to look for.”
“Well, now you do.” Allison slid her coffee to the side, leaning in with an earnest look on her face. “Clara, I think you”ve got a real historical mystery on your hands.”
Clara laughed at the excitement in Allison”s voice, but there was a part of her that felt the same excitement. She loved a good story, and this one was turning out to be better than anything she could have dreamed up herself.
“So where do you start?” Allison asked, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.
“I suppose I should start with Victoria”s boxes again,” Clara said. “If there are any more journals, they”re likely to be in there. I”ve gone through some boxes, but there are a lot more. But I”m wondering if the first journal accidentally got put in the box. The other journals might have been put into her personal things.”
“If that”s the case, then you”ll need to search her house or personal belongings,” Allison reasoned, trying to mask the eagerness in her voice.
“Can I even do that? I mean, is it right?” Clara pondered. “I”d feel like I”m rummaging through someone else”s secrets.”
“But who”s going to know?”
“You”re a bad influence,” Clara laughed.
“Hey, you”re the one that got me started with this whole thing.”
“We”re bad. I never should have opened the journal. I never read Cassidy”s diary. I can”t believe I read Victoria”s.”
“But you said it was an investigative journal, not a diary.”
“True,” Clara nodded.