Moira wisely let that drop. “Are you putting them in the lake house?”
“They’ll be comfortable there, and besides, Gerta is accustomed to the cottage.”
“I have to admit I’m stunned. And kind of fan-girling at the moment. Is he bringing his horse?” Moira paused to scan her brain for the mare’s name. “Rogue’s Fancy?”
“Right. But he calls her Butterhead. And yes, she’s coming.”
“And Hannah’s horse?”
“She is currently without a horse. She leases one. She says she doesn’t have the time. She’s working on her makeup business. But that’s another story.”
“So. A full house.”
“That’s not the half of it. Hold on a minute.”
Moira waited for what she knew was another phone call coming in. Her mother had two cell phones, often going back and forth between the two.
“Here we go!” Grace exclaimed, coming back on the line. Her voice was clipped. “The governor of Florida just declared a mandatory evacuation for the southeastern coast.”
Moira sucked in her breath.
“The update shows Hurricane Noelle gaining strength and heading straight for Miami.”
Moira felt the old flutter of panic wash over her. “If Florida called it, then South Carolina won’t be far behind.”
“Wait, there’s the phone again.”
While she waited for her mother, Moira swung open the safe’s metal door. Reaching into the back, she pulled out a leather case and carried it to the dresser, laying it beside the silver-framed wedding photo of her and Thom. She looked radiant in that photo, with her dark hair pulled back and an intricately embroidered lace veil flowing from the crown of her head. Beside her, Thom was smiling his winner’s smile, the one she’d seen whenever he closed a big deal for the international pipe and valve company where he worked. She shoved the photo aside to make room for the case. Opening it, she began sifting through its contents.
What should I bring with me? she wondered. What pieces couldn’t I live without?
Moira pulled out an opera-length necklace of large pearls with a ruby and diamond clasp. It was the one she’d worn in the wedding photograph and, like the veil, it had been handed down to her from her grandmother. She put that into the small silk travel bag. She riffled through the rest of the case’s contents: a yellowed bracelet of ancient seed pearls given to her at her birth, a few family rings, and the emerald ring she’d purchased for herself in a pique when Thom had been gone on a business trip for the third wedding anniversary in a row. Most of her other pieces of jewelry were not of any great financial or emotional value. She paused, her left hand resting on the leather chest, when Grace returned to the line.
“It’s really heating up now. Everyone is running for the hills. We’ve got to do something to help those poor people.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Yes. Get your precious ass up here.”
Moira ignored that. “What was that last phone call?”
“That was Danny and Ron’s dog rescue. They’re expecting a new load of rescue dogs after this storm. They’re bringing the dogs rescued in Florida to their facility in South Carolina. But first, they have to empty the facility there. Time is of the essence. Do you know anyone who lives near Camden who can bring the dogs to Freehold Farm?”
“To Freehold Farm?” Her mother could dive into a rescue mission headfirst. “Mother,” she said, trying to interject calm. “How many dogs are we talking about?”
“Not too many. Maybe eight. Tops.”
“Eight? Where are you going to put them?”
“I’ve thought it all through,” Grace said in a dismissive tone. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make the garage a temporary kennel. It opens right up to the fenced-in yard. Randy is here now, clearing everything out of the garage. It’s all under control.”
Moira was silent. Leave it to her mother to prepare an animal shelter in her yard at a moment’s notice.
“I hear that long pause of disapproval. I couldn’t say no. They’re desperate.”
This too was typical of her mother. She always leaped to lend a helping hand. If there was a fund-raiser needed for a charity she believed in, she was there to run it. If a friend needed support, she was the first to offer it. And Moira was her mother’s daughter.
“I’ll get the dogs.”
“Absolutely not. You need to get on the road and come straight here.”
“It’s almost on my way. It’ll be a minor detour. I have one of your small horse trailers here. Don’t you remember? I borrowed it when I brought down that load of furniture.”
“I can get someone—”
Moira interrupted. “Mama, I want to do it, so let’s not waste time arguing about it. Text me the address and tell Ron to alert the shelter to be ready for me in about”—she quickly calculated the time—“three hours.”
After a pause, Grace said in a softer tone, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” It had been a while since she’d heard that. “I’ll call you from the road.”
Moira hung up and walked directly into her spacious closet. There, she stripped off her J.McLaughlin pants and top, then slipped into a pair of jeans and a chambray shirt. Paddock boots, leather gloves . . . She was ready to pick up a truckload of dogs. Her own tricolor Cavalier King Charles spaniel sat patiently by the door, following Moira’s every movement. Dear little dog, Moira thought. Gigi had spent many a lonely night with Moira while Thom was away on business. He traveled so often to faraway places in Europe, Russia, and Asia. Trips that took weeks at a time. Moira used to wonder how anyone could call a pet their baby. She better understood that emotion now.
“Come on, baby, let’s go do some good.”
Gigi leaped to her feet, her liquid brown eyes on Moira’s face, tail wagging.
Moira went to the dresser to grab the small jewelry bag filled with her treasures and tossed it into her purse. As she took hold of the leather case, her hand brushed against the framed photograph, knocking it to the hardwood floor. The sound of the shattering glass ricocheted in the shuttered room.
Moira gasped and stared at the image of her and Thom’s smiling faces behind the broken glass. It seemed like an omen. She felt as though the walls of the house were closing in on her and she couldn’t breathe. She tugged her diamond engagement ring from her finger with a determination edged with desperation. The wedding band resisted. The ring of gold hurt her tender skin as she wrestled it away. But off it came, and in a swift move, she opened the jewelry case, tossed the rings inside, and snapped the lid shut. Sniffing, she walked across the room to return the case to the wall safe, closed the door, and moved the painting back. It closed with a satisfying click.
Without a backward glance, Moira led Gigi from the house.
* * *
August 20, 7:45 a.m.
Wellington, Florida
Hannah heaved a sigh as she pulled into the palatial Medici, one of the jewels of the fabled equestrian community of Wellington. Angel kept his prize horse, Rogue’s Fancy, stalled there at the invitation of the owners—a mutually beneficial arrangement that allowed the owners to boast of having the great Javier Angel de la Cruz there, while Angel was able to house his horse at a top-tier stable at no cost to him.