Miss Fortune (46 page)

I rather like Providence, Flynn said. Its quaint.

Quaint! Iris laughed. Darling, youve got Butler Cropwell for quaint!

Flynn smiled thinly. Heres something thats frightfully quaint, IrisI have always wanted to be a Homicide investigator.

That earned both the ladies attention; Iris looked nervously at Mum, then laughed. I suppose all little boys dream of being a policeman, she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Perhaps. But I still dream of it. In fact, I think I shall pursue it.

Such nonsense! Mum said with exasperation. Youve an excellent job with Lloyds! Why would you want to do something that involved murder and unsavory characters? she asked, shivering a little for emphasis.

Dunno, Mum, but I do. And Im really rather good at it. Furthermore, I care very little about the aristocracy. In fact, you could take the whole bloody lot of them and ship them off to China or some such place for all I care.

Iris laughed, but his mother looked at him as if hed insulted her somehow. Oh really, you shouldnt tease your mother in such a way, Iris said, playfully tapping him on the arm.

Im not teasing her, he said, swinging his gaze to Iris.

Im being honest. I want to investigate homicides. I put in a call to my boss just this afternoon and asked if Lloyds might participate in an international exchange program. He thought it was a rather grand idea and has gone off to see what can be done. In other words, I am hoping that I might remain in Providence to learn the art of homicide investigation from the Americans. And then, Im thinking of moving to America permanently.

But But I dont want to live in America! Iris protested.

Then I suggest you not do so, he said pleasantly. Iris, I was quite honest with you when I told you it was over. The thing is, he said, trying his damnedest to be kind, I wouldnt marry you if you were the last woman on earth, and quite frankly, I really have no desire to ever lay eyes on you again. Im terribly sorry if you think thats harsh, but its, at the very least, honest. You should try it sometimehonesty, that is.

And Mum, he said, turning to look at his gaping mother. I really dont give a rats arse about the Duke of Alnwick, and Im actually quite brassed off that you thought to come here and try to manipulate me in such a manner. Please dont cryI do love you, Mum, but I really must finish my work, and my life, without your interference.

Dear God! his mother exclaimed. I cant believe what Im hearing!

I rather thought you wouldnt, he said pleasantly. So I gave Dad a ring this afternoon, told him to expect you home in the morning. I also told him what Im thinking of doing, and he thought it was a jolly good plan. He asked me to tell you to keep your knickers on, that its really not the end of the world as you know it.

So you intend to toss us out? Iris cried, looking truly affronted.

Not toss you out, but escort you to the nearest plane. Youll find your bags are packed for the drive to Boston, where Ive got you booked on the eleven p.m. flight to

London. And with that, he stood up, began to clear the table.

Needless to say, the drive to Boston was not particularly pleasant, what with Mum crying in the backseat and Iris reviewing all the disparaging names for the wretched cretin that he was, and insisting shed ruin him socially in London. In spite of it all, Flynn kissed his mother goodbye, promised her hed be home early in the new year, and hugged Iris, who then broke down in tears. Im sorry if Ive hurt you, Iris, he said sincerely.

Oh, dont be ridiculous! she snapped. Im not hurt ! Im upset that I wasted so much time with you! she cried, and wrenched free of him, running to Mum for comfort.

Flynn stayed to watch their plane take offone could never be entirely certain those two were completely goneand satisfied they were on their way to London, he checked into a hotel. Tomorrow, he was flying to Chicago to retrieve the last of the items that Dagne had sold on eBay. When he got back, he was to call his boss and see what progress had been made on his request to participate in a six-month exchange.

And then he would turn his full attention to Rachel.

PROVIDENCE was glittering with Christmas lights, which meant all retail outlets had expanded their hours to accommodate holiday shoppers. That was good news for Rachel, who stayed gainfully employed for several days in a row, and then paid her utility bill.

Even the Valicielos had gotten into the spirit of things; their plastic deer had been turned into reindeer, and Santa and his sleigh were atop their house. The best news of all, of course, was that the tree had at last been removed. Rachel had managed to scrape together the five hundred dollars she needed to have the tree cut and removed, and another seventy-five dollars to have the chain-link fence repaired. As a result, Mr. Valicielo had stopped stalking her and had dropped his small claims case.

In fact, everyone seemed to be caught up in the spirit of peace. Life, as they knew it on Slater Avenue, had returned to normal. All the houses on her street were decoratedexcept hers, of course. Rachel didnt feel much like celebrating. She had promised Dad shed come to New York for Christmas. His surgery had been scheduled for mid-January, and she wanted to spend some time with him.

Apparently, everyone didRobin and Jake and the kids were coming, too, as were Rebecca and her family. Even Grandma and Grandpa were thinking of making the trip.

A couple of weeks before Christmas, Rachel parked in the drive, fished her bag and a sack of groceries out of the car, and paused to admire the lights on her street. With a hint of a smile, she trudged up the steps to the kitchen door but she stopped midway up, because lying in front of the door was a single red rose.

How weird. Probably one of Dagnes latest spells to bring her out of the doldrums. Shed have to call Dagne on her newly reconnected phone and tell her to stop; she was coming out of the doldrums alone. She shook her head, continued up the steps, stepped over the rose and went inside, put her things down, then came back to retrieve it. She glanced around as she picked it up, and noticed there was a card with the rose.

She opened it. My favorite flower: Rose. The color of Rachels lips .

Her heart skipped a beat or two. W-what? she asked out loud, and suddenly clutched the rose to her chest, peered down the drive. There was no oneno cars, no sounds, nothing. So Rachel slowly backed into her house, looked at the flower again, brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent of it, then read the note once more.

A smile crossed her lips.

She carried the rose around with her the rest of the evening, half expecting him to knock on the door. At midnight, having worked on her dissertation for several hours, she crawled into bed, the rose with her, and slept soundly.

That night, she dreamed she was walking in snow. Each step was harder than the last, and she kept sinking, until she was sinking with each step up to her thigh. But ahead of her was a single red rose, and in her dream, she was struggling to reach the rose before it blew away.

The next day, Rachel put the rose in a vase and went to the gym.

Hey, Lori said as she walked in. I didnt think we were going to see you again!

Did you think Id died or something? Rachel asked wryly.

Lori laughed. You know how it is. People gain weight, they come to the gym, then they feel pretty good and stop coming, then they gain weight again and here they come. She smiled, popped a bubble.

Rachel rolled her eyes, went on back to the machines. She could only make it five miles that day before her legs gave out and she began to see her life flash before her eyes, and as she wobbled out the door, she was furious with herself for having wallowed in pity so long. She warned Lori shed be back the next day.

The rest of the day she was at the university library, working diligently. When she left there, she picked up some Chinese and drove home, and once again, the cheerful Christmas lights greeted her as she drove down the street and turned into the one dark house on the entire block.

She walked to the steps leading to her kitchen door and caught her breath. There was a package there, wrapped in silver paper, tied with a red ribbon. With a grin, Rachel scooped it up and quickly went inside.

At her breakfast bar, she untied the red bow, took the paper from the box, and opened the lid. Oh God, she murmured as she withdrew a crystal pendant made of blue topaz hanging on a long silver chain. Ohmigod, she said again, lifting the pendant from the box and holding it up to the light. It was gorgeous; exquisite. She fastened it around her neck, eagerly took the card from the box.

My favorite gem: Blue topaz. The exact color of Rachels eyes.

Oh Jesus, Flynn, she whispered, and still grinning, held the pendant in her palm, admiring it, then let it drop against her body and ran to the front windows. She peered out into the night, wondering if he was out there somewhere, watching her. But she couldnt see very well, and bounced to the front door, and walked out onto the porch with her arms folded tightly against her as she looked up the street one way, then the other.

Nothing.

The cold forced her back inside.

Rachel decided it was such a lovely cold night that shed have a fire. And then maybe shed look around for the Christmas decorations. She remembered seeing them during her furious cleaning, and she was going to be in town another ten days or so. It wouldnt hurt to have a little Christmas spirit, would it?

She could hardly wait to get home from wrapping gifts at the local mall the next day to see if hed left her anything, and she was, therefore, stunningly disappointed when there was nothing lying at her back door. In fact, she was so disappointed that she stood there shivering, staring at the steps to make sure she hadnt missed something, a little something. Anything! But there was nothing. Nothing .

Rachel dragged herself up the steps, opened the door, and went inside.

There, on the breakfast bar, was a large silver box wrapped in red ribbon. Next to it, a note from Dagne. Found this outside. Call me !

Rachel pushed the note aside, quickly undid the package. In the box was a beautiful cashmere shawl, the color of a rich mahogany, thick and absolutely gorgeous. With a squeal of delight, she threw the shawl around her shoulders and reached for the card.

My favorite fabric: Cashmere. The texture of Rachels hair.

She laughed, brought the shawl to her face, feeling it, smelling it, and walked to the dining room, where her Christmas decorations were strewn about the table. Wrapping the shawl more tightly around her, she walked to the door and opened it and stumbled backward in surprise.

There was a Christmas tree on her porch! A bare Christmas tree, seven feet tall, just standing there. What the hell? she murmured, and gasped with delight as a small white card emerged through the boughs of the tree.

Rachel snatched the card and quickly opened it. My favorite pastime: Being with Rachel, for when I am with her, I feel quite like a tree a thousand feet tall and ageless .

Oh God, she said aloud. Oh Flynn.

Oh Tannenbaum, a disembodied but distinctly British voice said from behind the tree.

Rachel laughed. A talking tree, how weird!

Actually, we trees make excellent emissaries of peace.

Rachel leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms across her chest, the note against her heart. So are you an emissary, Tannenbaum?

As a matter of fact, Ive come on behalf of a chap who is not altogether very bright, and he has, on occasion, done things that would lead some to believe he has shit for brains, but really, his heart is in the right place, and he wants nothing more than to apologize for his abominable behavior, and perhaps explain how, exactly, things got so far off course.

Ah, I see, she said, nodding. Well, maybe you should go back and tell this stupid chap that Im not so angry anymore, and that he really doesnt have to send a tree. Im actually ready to talk about what happened, she said, pushing away from the doorjamb. She reached into the tree and pushed it aside, revealing a very wary-looking Flynn behind it. Because I still love him.

Flynn grinned broadly at that. Theres an excellent start!

And Id like to ask him in, she said, reaching for his tie, to thank him properly for the gifts hes left me, but I have to ask is everything okay?

Flynn smiled as he reached out and touched her chin, his fingers skimming her jaw. Everything is okay, he said softly. There is no one but you in my thoughts and my heart, Rachel, and there hasnt been since almost the moment I laid eyes on you. Honestly, if I had it to do all over again, there are so many things I might have done quite differently. But Ive come to the conclusion that we never choose who we will fall in love with or when we fall, and I suspect that true love is never very tidy, is it?

Its devastating, she said, and tugged at his tie.

Devastating and rather an ugly mess, with lots of pieces and parts that come together, but dont really fit with one another, eh? But at the core of it, there is that abiding sort of love that two people have for each other, and that is what holds those pieces and parts together, to be used or discarded as time goes on. So I am here to say that I love you, Rachel Lear, in pieces and parts. I love you long and short, round and flat, big and small. I love you left and right and north and south and in any other untidy way you might imagine.

Oh Flynn, she said, and grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. How did you get to be so poetic? she asked.

How did you get to be so beautiful?

You want to come in?

Only if my friend can come, too, he said.

Of coursewe might need him later, who knows? Because I want to know it all, no matter how painful it might be. I want to put it out there so we can smash it to pieces and go on.

Thank God, Flynn said, and shoved a hand through his hair. Thank God.

Rachel stepped back, held the door open for him so he could carry the tree inside. Once he was inside, she let the door close and walked to the edge of the porch and looked up at the sky.

It was a full moon and love had hopped back into her life.