Slow Summer Burn: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (13 page)

“Nigel,” Clarissa said, “what have you been up to recently? I haven’t seen you at any functions lately. Weren’t you supposed to attend the Smiths’ party last night?”

“Yes,” Nigel responded, his voice laden with a hint of indifference. “But I’m afraid I was double-booked.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, displaying the custom-made shirt under his well-cut blazer. With his sparkling blue eyes, his black hair tinged with gray at the temples, his brilliant smile, and his dapper style, it was no wonder that women flocked to him.

Clarissa clucked at him. “It astounds me how a man of your age and position cannot keep track of his own affairs.”

“Clarissa, I assure you, it’s merely the social engagements that give me trouble. Not the affairs. Those I have well in hand.”

Cameron laughed—a real one this time, earning a disapproving glance from Clarissa, while her father made a choking sound into his wineglass. Cecile, as usual, simply sat there, but Cameron noticed the stain on her cheeks.

“
Really
, Nigel,” Clarissa said, sounding exasperated. “Well, next time you have to miss an event, try not to make it the Smiths’.”

Nigel shrugged. “I’ve been missing the Smiths’ events for years and no one gives a damn.” He took a drink of wine. “Still manage to keep getting invited back, though,” he muttered.

“You didn’t miss much, Nigel,” her father piped in. “Dreadfully dull. Buck managed to drone on for twenty minutes about his golf game.”

“Frederick!” Clarissa said. “Don’t encourage him.” She gave a sigh. “Why do I bother, Nigel? You’re as bad as West.”

“Where
is
West?” Cameron asked.

Cecile looked down as their father made a loud
harrumph
.

“Out,” Clarissa said crisply. “As usual. Let’s move on from this depressing topic of conversation. Cameron,” her mother said, piercing her with her gaze. “Did you manage to get in touch with Junior? Ted was asking whether you two had connected after the Kirkland Awards. From what I understand, Junior was very keen to see you again.”

“Yes, he called,” Cameron admitted. “But we weren’t able to make anything work for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Clarissa said, obviously disappointed. “Well, do give him a call back. He is such a
nice
young man.”

Cameron made a noncommittal noise in her throat. Last week, she’d had a taste of what she thought of as
real
life. Complicated, noisy, and pulsing with energy. The night of the Schoolhouse’s opening, someone had actually climbed up on a chair and serenaded Sebastian and his food with a marvelous Italian aria. If she could have sung, she would have, the food was that good. There was a dish she’d tried—a salt cod
brandade
, salty and rich—so unlike the bland
baked chicken she was currently eating. She’d wanted more, but it had passed by too quickly. Cameron could still taste the
brandade
on her tongue and Val’s kiss on her lips. She wanted more of
that
, too. The way he slanted his mouth over hers and tasted. Savored her, as if she were a fine wine. In public, he always held himself back. But his public restraint was blasted out of the water in private, when he unleashed himself fully, for her. That was the most exciting thing of all.

The vibrancy of that evening had carried her through the entire week. Putting her here, in her parents’ formal dining room, somewhere she truly wished she weren’t. She wanted to be with Val, back in Star Harbor, so badly.

It was a moment before she realized her mother was still talking. “… and definitely go back to Alessandro this week, Cameron. Whatever he’s been doing to your hair isn’t working. You look … messy.”

With a start, she realized she hadn’t been to see her stylist in over a month, the longest she’d ever gone without an appointment. It had been on her to-do list, but somehow it had slipped off her radar, along with her bimonthly manicure. She glanced down at her nails. The polish on her index finger was actually chipped. Chipped! Quickly, she slid her hand under the table, not really sure whether she was hiding her offending finger from Clarissa or herself.

“I’ll do that, Mother,” she said. Clarissa nodded, and when she focused her attentions on poor Cecile, Cameron zoned out, imagining what she’d have Alessandro do. She knew just what kind of cut she wanted … something long and loose that she didn’t have to manage every four weeks. Something less sleek and more natural. And her highlights had to go. She’d go back to her solid raven black. It might not be as stylish, but it would be more freeing.

All of a sudden, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. She took a peek at her chipped nail. That she had to fix. But perhaps she’d choose a less sedate color. Debutante pink was getting old. Maybe she’d try some of those new gels she’d heard about, too. It would be nice not to have to worry about getting a manicure every week.

She lifted her gaze. Nigel was watching her with a curious expression.

“Everything all right?” he asked. “You looked strange for a minute there.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “So tell me, Uncle Nigel, what have you
really
been up to? Aside from squiring the world’s most desirable women to parties and dinners, that is?” She gave him a little smile.

Nigel returned the favor, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. Those keys your friends found in Star Harbor have intrigued me.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Uncle Nigel. I thought they might be a set. Did you have the same impression?” The keys Nigel was talking about were found by Lexie Meyers, Avery Newbridge, and Julie Kensington. It was less of a coincidence than Cameron had originally thought, once she’d done some research and determined that each of the buildings owned or used by the women were of historical significance.

“Yes. It’s highly probable they
are
a set, and that’s what makes them even more interesting.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been doing some more research into the
Siren Lorelei
. Over the years, a few pieces reputed to be from the
Lorelei
have popped up here and there. Their provenance is suspect—after all, the wreck is still missing—and they rarely get to market. However, I believe that these keys did come from the wreck, and that they would be of great interest to historians and collectors. And to me.”

“Uncle Nigel, are you going on a treasure hunt?” she teased.

Nigel merely looked thoughtful. “Funny you should use those words. My whole business is just that … treasure hunting. Just like you, I spend my time searching for items of value. Things I think are beautiful and worthy, but typically, they are objects that are of interest to others. Sometimes of great interest. And so I sell them. After all, it is my job.” He looked pointedly at Clarissa, who was still browbeating Cecile. “All this talk of the
Lorelei
has gotten me to thinking about searching for items for myself. Now they might not end up being items salvaged from a shipwreck, but this is the first time in a long time I’ve been intrigued by a collection.” He laughed. “A collection I’m not even sure exists.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to be bitten by the bug. I believe one of Star Harbor’s historians, Branford Weld, is also interested in the
Siren Lorelei
.” Theo Grayson had mentioned it the last time she’d run into him and Avery at the LMK. “I believe Mr. Weld is also a history professor at Boston College. You might consider talking to him.”

“I know Bran, actually. He belongs to one of my clubs,” Nigel said, sounding thoughtful. “I had no idea he was so interested in the
Lorelei
. I’ll have to set up a lunch.”

“Do that,” Cameron encouraged. “And perhaps you’d like to come visit me in Star Harbor. To do some on-site research?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh, “I have been promising to visit you for a while. This might
be a good time to come. Shall I bring the keys?”

“Please. I know you’ve enjoyed studying them, but I think my friends might want them back.”

Nigel sighed. “And here I was, hoping to keep them indefinitely.”

“If you really want to study them more, I can ask. I’m sure the ladies won’t mind.”

“No, no. I’d be remiss if I didn’t return them to their rightful owners. I’ll email you the weekends I’m free.”

“Sounds just fine,” Cameron said with a smile.

“What’s that you’re talking about?” Clarissa interjected. “I do hate work talk at the table, don’t I, Frederick?”

“You do, dear,” her father replied.

“Then we’d best stop talking,” Nigel said. “So we don’t upset you.”

Cameron looked at her mother to find her mouth pinched in clear disapproval. “We could talk about the Symphony Board planning meeting I’m attending next week,” she offered. “The fundraising event is coming up quickly and we have a lot of work to do to finalize our plans.”

“Ah, yes,” Clarissa said, visibly relaxing. “That would be much better.”

Of course it would. Cameron took a deep breath, sighed, and went back to her bland, under-salted chicken.

Chapter 13

As soon as she walked into the LMK on a fine Saturday morning, the Fourth of July, Cameron spotted her uncle. Dressed in a pair of seersucker pants and a crisp linen shirt, he looked even more dapper than usual—if that was even possible.

“Uncle Nigel,” she said, approaching and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

“Not at all,” Nigel said. “I’m happy to meet at any place that serves French toast.”

“A fan, are you?”

He gave her a grin. “Absolutely rabid.”

When she’d suggested that Nigel come to Star Harbor, she had no idea her uncle would take her up on the offer so quickly, but he’d made arrangements to come out the next weekend. Nigel had promised to spend the day with her, but he planned to head back to Boston later that night for a party. That was just fine with her. She had plans tonight, too. Val had called, asking her to join him for a clambake and bonfire with his brothers and friends.

Kiki seated them at a small table near the window, and since both of them knew what they wanted, she took their orders immediately. Within a few moments, she was back with a coffeepot and poured each of them a cup.

“And now for the fun,” Nigel said when Kiki had gone. He removed a small velvet bag from his pocket and carefully took out three slender keys. Then he laid the bag on the table and placed the keys on top. “I’ve spent the last month studying these and they still manage to fascinate me. They appear to be made of iron, and just the way they’re constructed is incredible. The slimness …” He picked one up and held it sideways so she could see how narrow it was. “And the strength.” He grabbed it in his fist and squeezed. “Alone, each is wonderful. Together, they’re just magnificent. And they’re clearly designed to be used as a set. Look there, on the bow,” he said, pointing. “The Roman numerals are etched in—I, II, and III. They show the order in which they should be arranged, like so.” He took the skinny keys and placed them one on top of the other. They fit together perfectly, stacking up to create one large key. “When we find the lock these keys fit, we will make history! I’ll bet they unlock treasure from the
Siren Lorelei
.”
Her uncle looked positively delighted at the prospect.

Cameron laughed. “I’m sorry to rain on your parade, but I can’t imagine we’ll ever see any treasure chest. Finding these keys was sheer luck and I’m still not sure how my friends managed it. But the search will probably end here.”

“Don’t be too sure, Cameron,” Nigel said. “The keys were all found in Star Harbor, and all in historic buildings. It stands to reason that whatever they unlock is also still in town, likely in a similar location.”

“I think any kind of treasure chest—if one truly existed—would surely have been found by now. And maybe the reason it hasn’t is because it’s still underwater in Vineyard Sound.”

Nigel took a sip of coffee. “It’ll turn up. I’m certain. I believe that the famous verse by Nathaniel Jacobs—you know, ‘The Legend of the
Lorelei
’—must be based in fact.”

“Or like any good poet, he’s embellished the facts.”

Nigel shook his head. “There’s truth in there. I know there is. We know the wreck hasn’t been found, but if the chest had been found, we’d have heard about it.”

“For a man who’s reputed to be terribly jaded, I have to say you are quite optimistic about this. And about pirate treasure, no less.”

“Oh, I can be jaded, all right. Just give me a minute.” Nigel leaned back in his chair and adopted an air of ennui.

“That is just
perfect
,” Cameron breathed. “You look just like your photographs.”

Her uncle sat up straight again, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I do try, you know.”

Kiki came back with their food. Nigel liberally poured maple syrup over his French toast, then took a big bite. “Oh, my,” he said.

“I know,” Cameron said. “Funny, the owner of this place is married to a well-known chef, Sebastian Grayson. But her brand of comfort food hits all the right notes, doesn’t it?”

“It most certainly does,” Nigel said, before taking another bite.

At that moment, Lexie herself came by the table. “Cameron, hi,” she said. “Kiki told me you were out here. How’s it going?”

“Well, thanks, Lexie,” Cameron said, giving her friend a big smile. “Have you met my uncle, Nigel Endicott?”

Lexie shook her head. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Welcome to Star Harbor.”

“Lexie?” Nigel asked, immediately on the alert. “The same Lexie who found one of these
keys?”

“That’s right,” she said. “I own the place, and I found the key in the cellar of the restaurant.” What Lexie didn’t mention was that she’d found the key while being attacked by her crazy ex-boyfriend, and had used it as a weapon to defend herself.

“First, your French toast is amazing.”

Lexie grinned. “Thanks.”

“And second, do you know what a unique find you have here?” He held up one of the keys.

“Cameron told me it was a piece of history,” Lexie said.