“And you had me to look after,” Chris said.
Diana smiled. “We did.” She looked at Sara. “A goat ate the corner of the old suitcase. It was in the loft of a barn and he gnawed a bit of it. When I realized what it contained, I again tried to contact Sean.”
“You’d tried before?” Sara asked.
“I sent half a dozen letters to Oxley Manor,” Diana said. “I never received a reply.”
“Of course not,” Sara said. “I’m sure Nicky or Bertram or Mrs. Aiken saw the letters and threw them in the fire.”
“So they knew you were alive,” Jack said.
“I would imagine so.” Diana lowered her head. “We should have put the money in a bank account and waited for Sean to claim it. But we were desperate.”
“Understandable,” Sara said.
“What did you buy?” Byon asked. “Something wonderful or were you sane and sensible?”
“Both. We bought a farm. Good land, a few horses. We sold produce to a few stores. We...” She trailed off. “We have never been rich.”
Sara looked at Chris—big beautiful, blond, gleaming with good health. “Looks to me like you’re fabulously wealthy.”
“I agree,” Diana said, and Chris smiled.
“I agree, too,” Teddy said loudly. “Very fabulous!”
The way she said it was so suggestive, so downright sexy, that everyone laughed. It was a good break from the horror of what was around them.
* * *
After the night of the play, Willa delighted in telling them her story of starting Renewal. She left out no details.
“It gets bigger every time she tells it,” Jack said.
“It is big business,” Sara said. “Bigger than one person can handle. And have a life, that is.”
“You said what is on my mind,” Kate said.
They smiled at each other.
“I know that look,” Jack said. “What devious thing are you two planning?”
“Willa needs help,” Kate said. “Someone who can organize.”
“And be elegant while doing it.”
Jack looked stern. “Willa’s business is none of yours. She can handle her own life.”
Kate patted him on the chest. “You’re so cute when you act like you’re in charge.” She left the room.
Sara patted his arm. “I bet Bella has lots of tools you can play with.” She followed Kate into the hall.
Behind them, Jack was shaking his head. “DGI,” he said loudly. “Don’t Get Involved. It’s a good motto. Use it.”
The women were too far away to hear him—or they didn’t want to.
Twenty-Seven
Jack was glad to stay out of whatever the women were planning. Instead, he gave his attention to Bella. They all felt sorry for her. Her beautiful hotel was again in the news, only this time was much worse. Skeleton Found, the headlines read. The Graveyard at Oxley. Another Murder at Oxley. Angry Spirits Invade Oxley.
They were able to keep the reporters off the grounds, but they were circling the estate, like carrion birds waiting to feast.
Several of Bella’s employees refused to come to work, and she’d fired two who had talked to the press. The newspapers loved splashing Sara’s name around for the second time. They spoke of “romance writers” as though they were filth, as the lowest of the low.
When Jack saw the women huddled together, he knew they were concocting some plan. Byon, annoyed at being excluded, said he was going upstairs to write.
“No you’re not,” Jack said. “We are going to help Bella. We’re going to do some repairs, so you need to put on work clothes.”
Byon made a face. “What happened to your being in awe of me? When we met, you were so nervous you could hardly speak. I liked that.”
Jack gave a one-sided grin. “You know that saying about familiarity. Go change and meet us in the kitchen in ten minutes.”
Clive also complained about Jack’s bossiness. “I had years of servitude here. Damned if I’ll do another thing for this place.”
“Sara will take photos of you working on construction. Adds a dimension to your character. Makes you ‘one of the people.’ Don’t you think your bosses in London will like that?”
Clive blinked a couple of times. “Give me five minutes.” He took off running.
They spent the day repairing one of the outbuildings on Oxley. Chris knew how to do everything, and Jack invited him to Florida to work for him.
“I’m staying in Australia,” he said. “My moms have made the decree.”
“So you’re ruled by the hens? Staying in with them?” Byon stopped. “That’s a good title. ‘In with the Hens.’” He hummed a bit.
Jack picked up the tune and hummed it too.
Chris surprised them by coming up with words. “To pay for my sins with the hens.”
Clive was silent for a while, then he sang a bit in a baritone.
“I had no idea you had a voice,” Byon said.
“No one ever asked me to join in. I could have—”
The booing from the other men stopped him.
“Time to give it up, old man,” Chris said.
“Yes, your lordship,” Clive answered.
Chris’s eyes widened. “Never thought of that.”
“If your parents had married,” Byon said, “you’d have the title now.”
“How about a DNA test?” Jack asked. “It would prove that he’s Nicky’s heir.”
Clive and Byon groaned.
“You start checking for true fatherhood and the British aristocracy will collapse,” Byon said. “It’s all based on legal marriages, not who shagged whom.”
Jack and Chris looked at each other and laughed.
By the end of the day they’d made progress on the building. “Tomorrow we work on the roof,” Jack said.
“We’ll do Sound of Music,” Byon said. “The roof will be our mountains.”
They went in the house through the kitchen. It was a pleasant place without Mrs. Aiken there. A pot of beef stew was bubbling, homemade bread was on the table, a note from Kate beside it.
Beer in the fridge. Thank Puck for all of this. We women are busy.