“Whoa,” Cassie said in a droll tone. “That’s some doorbell.”
The doorbell. Right. That made a heck of a lot more sense than God sending her any kind of tangible clues on what to do with her life.
“First time I’ve ever heard it.” Bonnie stood and headed toward the door. “No one’s come to the front door since I’ve been here.”
From the scrape of chair legs against the tile kitchen floors and the sound of Evie’s voice, her friends were coming along to see who was outside. “Well, I can guarantee you, whoever it is, Roman knows they’re coming or the guards would have cut off their arms by now.”
Bonnie opened the door.
On the porch stood Mr. Frannelly, a teenage boy to his right and her guards standing behind them. The boy and the guards held decent-sized cardboard boxes, and Mr. Frannelly had two oversized satchels in each of his hands.
Frannelly dipped his head in greeting. “Hello, Miss Drummond.”
“Um...hi.”
Evette and Cassie crowded close behind Bonnie.
“That’s a load of stuff,” Evette said.
“Oh, shoot.” Bonnie moved out of the way and motioned everyone inside. “Come on in. Roman’s office is on the right.”
“This is not for Mr. Kozlov.” Mr. Frannelly paused halfway into the foyer and waited for the rest of the men to make it through, then looked to her. “These are for you. Perhaps the kitchen is the best place to start for now.”
For her? That didn’t make sense.
She padded forward and motioned to the left. “The kitchen’s this way.”
Everyone followed and the men unloaded their boxes and satchels around the kitchen table. Without another word, the guards nodded to her and headed back to the porch. Frannelly and the teenage boy faced her, easy smiles aimed in her direction.
Tempted as she was to ask a ton of question and dig into everything they’d unloaded, she figured introductions were a better way to start. “Mr. Frannelly, these are my friends, Evette Petrovyh and Cassie Vasilek.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” He extended a hand to each of them then motioned to the boy beside him. “This is my son, Raymond. Roman brought him to me.”
“Oh, yes!” Evie said. “I remember Roman mentioning you now. You’re the jeweler over in Carrollton.”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s the one.”
“Sweet,” Cassie said, peering at the boxes with open curiosity. “You gotta love it when a jeweler shows up with a ton of boxes.”
“Oh, no,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me all of that is jewelry.”
Frannelly’s smile grew wider, as did Raymond’s. “Not jewelry, no. Not yet, anyway.”
Evette and Cassie looked as confused as Bonnie did, which was kind of comforting considering the situation. “Not yet?” Bonnie said.
“They’re supplies.” He opened one satchel and drew out several smaller boxes, stacking them one on top of the other. “Tools. Gold and gemstones.”
Inching closer to the table, Bonnie scanned all the items he’d laid out. Watched as Raymond pulled larger items from the boxes into view. Her brain struggled to put the pieces together. To figure out what was probably obvious but wouldn’t quite come into focus. “I don’t understand. Why would I need all of that?”
He stopped unloading and met her stare. Pure delight shone from his eyes. Like he couldn’t wait to share what he knew. “Roman shared some of your designs with me. He says you have many of them, but no education or experience. You need these things because I am here to teach you how to bring your ideas to life.”
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Make her own jewelry. Real jewelry? Not beads and braided silk?
A low chuckle sounded on her left. A second later Evie murmured, “Well, I think that’s our cue to head home.”
“I think you’re right.” Cassie pulled her coat off the back of her chair and both of them headed to the hallway with knowing smirks on their faces. Cassie leaned in as she passed, though, lowered her voice and added, “Fairy tales. They happen. Take your time and think about it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Reflections from the old-fashioned streetlamps lining Roman’s street glistened off the rain-slick asphalt. The sidewalks were empty on his block, to some degree because it was well past eight o’clock on a work night, but mostly because of the nonstop dreary weather.
His windshield wipers tapped out a slow and steady rhythm, an eerie pattern that felt like the drums on a death march. He was out of clues. Out of options he could leverage in finding Bonnie’s father and brother, and the weight of that fact hung heavy around his neck. He knew it wasn’t his fault. Knew that he’d done all that he could and that the only tools left were time and patience.
But he still felt like he’d failed Bonnie.
He passed the front of his house and flickered his headlights to the men who waited and watched on the front porch. Once they were sure he was in and the alarm secured, they’d switch to the monitored cameras and sensors he’d had installed the day before. God knew, he remembered what it was like to stand guard on a cold dreary night. He saw no reason for his men to endure the same if technology could do the work and save them the discomfort. Especially with the extra precautions he’d installed that monitored for tampering or cut lines.
With his truck parked inside the garage, he waited for the door to trundle down then let himself in through the back. Securing the bolt once he was inside, he opened his mouth to let Bonnie know he was home, but closed it just as fast when he spied her silhouette at the kitchen table. The only light that was on was the pendant fixture directly overhead, accenting the deep reds in her dark hair so she had a sunset-colored halo. The rest of her was mostly in shadow, only a sufficient amount of light to show she’d traded her usual jeans and T-shirt for loose pants of some kind and a light-colored tank top. Her head bobbed slightly from side to side, as if she were either listening to music or singing a song to herself.
He’d never thought to find out what kind of music she favored. What kind of movies she liked or what books she enjoyed reading.
He had a very long way to go. Much to learn about his bride-to-be.
But none of what he uncovered would change his direction. He knew her character. Her heart and her history. With that, they could forge a future.
Assuming his failure to find her family and revealing his own past didn’t waylay his plans.
Rather than risk walking up on her unaware, he flipped on the lights over the long galley kitchen and set his leather briefcase on the built-in escritoire.