Smiling, Jack went into his room and closed the door behind him.
Twenty-Eight
Sara was in front of the house saying goodbye to everyone. Diana said she and Chris had said their farewells the night before. “He’s fascinated by what he’s found out about the Renlow family and his...his, uh, father.” She had trouble saying the word.
“At least he’s not angry because you didn’t tell him what really happened,” Sara said. “There are some, well, unknowns about Kate’s father. I dread when she finds out the truth.”
“I wish you luck.” Diana got into the hired car. She was going to the airport.
The rest of them—even Puck and Bella—were off to London. Nadine had talked Bella into taking a break from all the turmoil, and Sara had paid for a suite at the Connaught for three days. Reluctantly, Bella had agreed to leave. Puck was going to a meeting with Renewal executives.
Jack and Kate had rented a car, and it was packed with their suitcases. Kate looked happy but at the same time nervous. They weren’t used to it being just the two of them.
“You’ll be fine,” Sara told Kate. Jack was a few feet away, being repeatedly kissed by Nadine, Teddy and Byon.
“I’m sure I will be. Where’s Chris?”
“Diana said he’s reading about the Renlows.”
Kate glanced up at the house. “Do you think you’ll be able to patch things up with Bella?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Jack would warn you not to try to buy her friendship.”
Sara smiled. “The dower house could use some work. That’ll be expensive.”
Kate kissed her aunt’s cheek. “It’s up to you. I can see that the prince is ready to go. It’ll take an hour to get all the lipstick off of him.”
Sara laughed.
“Keep in touch,” Kate said. “Texts work here.”
“You know me. I’m the empress of texting.”
“True, but I also know that you get so absorbed in whatever you’re doing that you ignore the outside world.”
Jack came over, kissed Sara, then escorted Kate to the car. He winked at Sara as they drove away.
For a few moments, Sara stood there looking at the empty parking area. To a true introvert like her, there was nothing so glorious as when everyone went away.
Smiling, she entered the house. She hadn’t told anyone, but there was something still bothering her. Who told Clive that some billionaire client had asked for him? Told Nadine there was a party that didn’t exist? Called Byon to go to London? Who put the note into Sara’s camera bag?
Mr. Howland’s funeral was in a few days. Did he kill himself? Sara trusted Jack’s instincts more than she did what the police said, and Jack hadn’t felt any of the despondency that foretold of suicide. It could have been spontaneous but...
Sara wrote a note.
Lunch at one. In the kitchen. Sara.
She slipped it under one of the doors into the attic. She knew she should find Chris, make chitchat, then invite him properly, but she had other things to do.
As soon as she was in her room, she called Eddie the lawyer. Sara truly hoped things would work out between him and Willa.
A secretary answered the phone. “Oh! Mrs. Medlar. I was told that if you called, I was to put you through right away.”
“Thank you.” When Eddie answered, she said, “I won’t take much of your time, but—”
“Since I owe you my entire life, I am yours.”
“How flattering. I was wondering if Mr. Howland ever told you a story about breaking an elephant.”
Eddie laughed. “It was one of his favorites.”
“Would you mind telling it to me?”
“He was kissing a pretty maid at Oxley Manor, and they knocked over a little glass elephant. I think it was valuable. The trunk broke off. The girl was so upset that she wouldn’t see him again.”
Sara waited for him to go on but he didn’t. “That’s it? That’s not much of a story.”
“Not by your standards, but Mr. Howland was heartbroken. He said that if it weren’t for that damned elephant he might have married that young woman. But he said she was too scared after that.”
“Scared of what? Or who?”
“Bertram, I guess. Or maybe Nicky.”
Sara sighed. The story was a disappointment. “Thanks, and if you remember anything else, let me know.”
“I will. How are you?” he asked.
Sara wanted to go, but she didn’t want to be rude. And she also didn’t want to give anything away. “Oh, just researching. I may write another romance set in an English manor house. Chris has been praying in the chapel. He wants to—”
As she knew he would, he cut her off. If there’s one thing introverts learned early in life, it was that if you want to get rid of an extro, talk rapidly about some bookish subject and they’ll go away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to take this call.”
“Oh, okay. Stop by and I’ll tell you my entire plot. I think you’ll find it fascinating.”
“Love to,” he said, then clicked off.
Sara let out a sigh of defeat. That story of Mr. Howland was like buying a book with a bloody knife on the cover and finding a love story inside. The man’s heart was broken. So what? Everybody’s heart had scars. Sara’s own heart had a Grand Canyon-sized slash that still hurt deeply.
She looked around the pretty room. What now? Part of her thought she should plan a way to make amends with Bella. Sorry we were shown a skeleton. Sorry your cook is a murderer. Sorry your relatives are a lying bunch of—
Sara saw a big box on a side table. How did that get to her room? She opened it and saw it was full of papers. On top was a note.
Thought you might like these. Byon.
She pulled out what had to be five hundred pages. They were tattered and stained, some in folders, some loose. As she flipped through them, she saw that they were written during Byon’s college years. There were little character studies of his classmates. Sara smiled in memory. Cutting your teeth as a writer. Looking, analyzing, trying to make the mundane interesting.
Most of the stories seemed to be about Nicky. Nicky’s First Meal with Me. I Meet Nicky. Nicky’s Best Replies. “What? No bathroom stories?” Sara tossed those papers aside.
There were several short parody plays of the people around Oxley Manor. Sara read enough of them to see that Clive was often the butt of their “humor.” Knowing what she did now, it was almost amusing to read about Poorwilla. That so-called pathetic person was now the one who was pulling them together. Yesterday, Willa said, “I always did take care of them. I just didn’t know it.”