Small benches and rattan chairs had been placed in carved-out alcoves along the path for guests to sit and read or rest in the quietly verdant environment.
The two-story conservatory had been built alongside the west end of Grace’s home to take full advantage of the afternoon sunlight. There were unobstructed views
through the glass of the crystal-blue waters of Lake Tahoe and the forest of thick pine and evergreen trees that grew on the steeply rugged mountains surrounding the lake.
The three of us wandered the garden path in silence for a while, stopping now and then to admire a lush flowering plant or read the fascinating history of a rare tree whose branches stretched up to skim the glass ceiling. It was the first time I felt my shoulders relax since I’d arrived at Grace’s home.
“I love the vibe of this room,” I murmured. My mind was so much calmer than it had been a few minutes ago. I wanted to stay right here. Maybe I could pilfer some blankets and curl up on that bench for the night.
“Feeling better?” Suzie asked.
I smiled. “Yes. Much better.”
Vinnie threaded her arm through mine. “Brooklyn, you looked so sad when you walked in. If you are hurting, I hope you know we’re here for you.”
I leaned against her petite shoulder and sighed. I had intended to dish about Suzie’s rude aunt Madge, but instead blurted, “I tried to call Derek, but a woman answered his phone.”
“What?” Suzie said, outraged on my behalf.
“I was as surprised as you are.” I waved my hand. “Never mind. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal if she hurt you,” Suzie said gruffly.
Vinnie tightened her arm against mine. “You know it means nothing. Don’t you, Brooklyn?”
“Of course.” But a sudden case of sniffles betrayed me. “I must be catching a cold.”
“Someone needs a hug.” Suzie came around behind me and the three of us held one another close for a moment. The warm cocoon of friendship touched me profoundly. Naturally, my tears welled over and the sniffling got worse. It was hell being a cheap crier.
“Feeling the love?” Suzie said almost a minute later, grinning as she eased back.
“Yeah.” I tried to laugh, but I was sniffling uncontrollably.
“I’ll bet you could use a drink,” Suzie said.
I nodded, helpless to speak.
Vinnie pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
I blew my nose and dabbed away my tears. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”
“Bet your boots,” Suzie said. “Now, if you feel like talking about it…”
“I don’t, but thanks.” I lifted my chin and shook my hair back. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for what happened, so I refuse to give it one more ounce of energy.”
Suzie punched my upper arm lightly, then tugged me toward the open doorway. “Then there’s nothing left to do but go have that drink.”
The house party was in full swing by the time the three of us walked into the Gold Salon. The room was right where Grace had told me, near the top of the grand stairway on the second floor. Three large bay windows covered the north wall of the salon. Each boasted a spectacular view of Lake Tahoe’s shimmering surface that reflected the swirling colors of the dusky sky.
Ho-hum,
I thought, smiling.
Another spectacular view of the most beautiful lake in the world.
Grace’s home was full of them. If I lived here, I would never get tired of staring out the windows.
Aside from the views, the Gold Salon was magnificent, even if overindulgent brothel styling wasn’t one’s taste. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the room had been decorated by a team of eighteenth-century French whores—all with exquisite taste, of course. The walls were lined with glittering gold brocade and the curtains were thick, shimmering burgundy velvet, and pulled back so the view could be appreciated.
Settees and chairs covered in gold-toned tapestry designs
were arranged in attractive, comfortable seating groups across the long room. One huge Oriental carpet covered the sleek hardwood floor.
“Champagne, mademoiselle?” a strolling waiter said. He held a tray of delicate fluted glasses filled with bubbly golden liquid. With his free hand, he made a sweeping gesture toward one of the corners of the room. “Or we have your choice of cocktails available at the bar.”
“No,” I said with a determined smile as I reached for a flute. “I’ll have champagne.”
“Me, too,” Suzie said, and grabbed two more glasses. She handed one to Vinnie and we all clicked them in a toast. Suzie said, “Let’s celebrate.”
“To the settling of scores,” Vinnie said, her normally smooth forehead lined in dogged resolution.
I giggled at her vindictive tone. “Thank you, Vinnie. I appreciate that.” My friends always made me feel better. Although, truth be told, I rarely giggled. Maybe I’d already gone off the deep end.
“We’ve got your back, girlfriend,” Suzie murmured. “Say the word and we’ll take that bitch down.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Suzie. If you hadn’t—”
“There you are, Brooklyn.”
I turned. “Oh, Grace. Your home is magnificent and I’ve barely begun to explore the place.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” she said, then winked at Vinnie, who scowled back. “Just take care, watch your step, and nobody will get hurt.”
Suzie laughed, but quickly pressed her lips together when Vinnie gave her the stink eye.
I would definitely have to do some exploring later. I wanted to find out why Vinnie so adamantly disapproved of Grace’s home. Unless it was simply Grace herself she disapproved of.
Grace smiled as she gently guided me away from my friends. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Tonight Grace had dressed formally in a slim purple
toga-style dress that was a lot prettier than it sounded. She’d managed to fluff up her usually straight dark brown hair so that a halo of curls surrounded her pretty face, while a profusion of gold-wired crystals dangled from her ears. She was not a tall woman, but she was slender and had such a command of the room that she appeared positively statuesque. Or maybe it was her immense wealth that made her appear so regal.
Grace led me directly toward the bar, where a tall, broad-shouldered blond man stood alone, sipping a cocktail. He looked to be in his late twenties and wore a white dress shirt tucked into black trousers. Simple, but elegant. If this was Grace’s archivist, he didn’t look like any librarian I’d ever seen. Instead, he resembled a certain movie star from the sixties who my mother had once confessed to having a huge crush on. Troy Donahue. Thick blond hair, soulful blue eyes. What a cutie.
Grace took hold of the blond man’s arm. “Nathan, let me introduce you to Brooklyn Wainwright, my favorite bookbinder.” Grace turned to me. “Brooklyn, this is Nathan Hayes, my new librarian…person. Oh, what do you call yourself, anyway?”
“Librarian is fine.” Nathan smiled indulgently at his new employer. “Although my correct title is archivist.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, patting my arm as she pulled me closer. “You two will be working together for the next few days and I couldn’t be happier about it. Finally my books will have some order to them.”
As Grace spoke, I watched Nathan’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly in a subtle but clear sign of masculine approval of me.
Isn’t that nice?
I reached out and we shook hands. “Hi, Nathan.”
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Brooklyn,” he said, his voice just smooth and deep enough to be wildly appealing to ninety-seven percent of the female population. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
With all the angst and drama I’d been through earlier,
I’d forgotten about working with Grace’s archivist this week. Now I looked forward to having the distraction of work to keep me from wallowing in anxiety.
The fact that the distraction included a handsome guy wouldn’t hurt, either.
After a minute more of small talk, Grace left us alone to speak to her other guests.
“I’ve already Googled you,” he confessed. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “And as soon as I return to my room I’m looking you up. I hope you haven’t broken any laws lately.”
His laugh was spontaneous and hearty. Talk about a distraction. “You won’t find anything exciting about me, I’m afraid. I’ve spent most of my working life sequestered in university libraries.”
“Not such a bad place to be sequestered.”
“Not bad at all,” he said easily. “I love being around books.”
I glanced around, then leaned closer. “You’ve come to the right place.”
“I know.” He chuckled. “This place is stuffed with books, isn’t it? Grace told me she was putting you in her Library Suite. How do you like it?”
My eyes widened. “Oh, my God, you’ve seen it?”
“Oh yeah.”
I shook my head in wonder. “I’m still in shock.”
He laughed again, then lowered his voice. “It’s like they moved the entire Library of Congress into that room. But I understand the bed is very comfortable. I mean, Grace said she bought a new mattress for the room, so that’s how I know the bed is…oh, boy. Not that I’ve…I wouldn’t…I mean…I’m going to shut up now.”
He was blushing! How adorable and refreshing. And I was laughing. Having fun. I’d forgotten how flirting with a cute boy could change your attitude about life in general.
Not that I’d be running off to marry the guy or anything. I really was devoted to Derek. But after that phone call with Thomasina, I worried that I’d be drowning in melancholy and uncertainty for the next week.
Instead, for a half hour we talked and flirted and sipped champagne. Nathan confessed that he was the world’s biggest football fan, and I revealed my predilection for Ghirardelli chocolate with caramel. As we exchanged information and stories, Nathan glanced casually around the room. I didn’t take it personally because I was doing the same thing. It was what people did at parties. But as I chuckled over his amusing story about the one and only bookbinding class he’d ever taken, something caught my attention at the far end of the room. Something that didn’t belong there. I focused my gaze on it and lost the thread of the conversation.
I held up my hand to interrupt his story. “I’m sorry, but would you excuse me for just a minute?”
“Oh.” He was taken aback but recovered quickly. “Sure thing.”
But I was already gone, weaving my way through the small groups of partygoers. I tried to nod and smile and say hello as I passed quickly, hoping they would forgive me for not stopping to talk.
When I reached the distant corner of the room, I steadied myself on the firm arm of the couch and knelt down next to the heavy Chippendale end table. Lifting up the front end of the table, I removed the hardcover book that had been wedged under the right front claw foot to keep the table from jiggling.
Still on my knees, I held the book up to the light and examined it. It was bound in brown leather with five raised bands on the spine, but it was so worn down and cracked that I couldn’t make out the faded gilded title. I opened it to the title page and read
Pilgrim’s Progress
. The printer was the legendary “Patriot printer,” Isaiah Thomas. The book was dated 1790.
I let out a short, high-pitched shriek.
“Are you all right?”
I turned too fast to look up at Nathan and strained my neck. “Ouch. No. Yes. I mean, I’m fine, but no, not really. Will you look at this?” Still on my knees, I shook the book at him, but didn’t let go of it.
“It’s a book,” he said cautiously, as if he were trying to calm down a nut case. “Where’d you find it?”
“It’s not just a
book
,” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s a priceless jewel of a book. It’s the rarest of rare books. And it’s being used to hold up a damn table!”
“Ah.” He inched away. “That’s not good at all.”
“What was it doing there?” I demanded.
“I swear I didn’t put it there,” he said as he held up both hands in surrender.
“Of course you didn’t.” I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me or not, but I didn’t care. I was furious. Shaking. I wanted to beat somebody up. Or worse.
“Who would do something so stupid?” It was a rhetorical question. I didn’t want to know. And I wasn’t about to ask my hostess and thoroughly offend her. Instead, I glared at the offending table leg, then gasped. “There’s another one!”
I dropped down to my hands and knees and scuttled around the side of the table. Just behind it, another book lay halfway under the couch. I grabbed it and stared at the dappled brown cloth cover, then turned and checked the black leather spine.
Gulliver’s Travels
. Beneath that was the name of the author:
SWIFT
.
A wave of fatigue overwhelmed me and I leaned against the couch and closed my eyes. This book was at least one hundred years old, possibly older. It had probably dropped off the side of the couch when someone fell asleep reading. How long had it been hiding back here, lonely and forgotten? Hadn’t anyone missed it? What was wrong with this world?
I knew my questions would sound ridiculous to anyone who didn’t care about books as much as I did. For some reason, that thought depressed me even more than
the missing books themselves did. I sighed, then opened my eyes and straightened up. Nathan Hayes stood nearby, watching me. Brave man. I almost felt sorry for him. It was obvious he thought I had gone off the deep end and now he was stuck with me for seven days.
But I was too livid to care about his feelings just then. I was more concerned about myself, frankly. I knew this anger had less to do with finding these books than with that blasted phone call earlier. But admitting it, knowing it, did nothing to calm the fury still burning in my chest.
The irony of the situation was almost funny. I had come to Grace’s party to relax, have fun, and avoid dead bodies. But now the only thing I wanted to do was murder someone.
“Let me help you up,” Nathan insisted, grabbing my elbow and lifting me off my knees.
“Thanks,” I muttered, steadying my legs as I stood. I had completely embarrassed myself again, but I didn’t care. This was the kind of embarrassment I could handle. When it came to rescuing books, I was willing to do whatever it took. I pulled at my sparkly sweater to straighten it and brushed a few carpet fibers off my black slacks.