Cast An Evil Eye
Authors: Ruthe Ogilvie
CAST AN
EVIL EYE
THE THIRD NOVEL OF THE STUART TRILOGY
By
RUTHE OGILVIE
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© Copyright 2012 Ruthe Ogilvie.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-2107-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4669-2093-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4669-2111-5 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904912
Trafford rev. 06/07/2012
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CONTENTS
T
he Stuart Trilogy is dedicated to a chosen few; those whose inspiration, dedication, and talent combined to encourage the finished works to flow forth from my pen or keyboard. To my husband, Frank (Bud) Ogilvie, who continually supported me through the long, arduous process; to my twin sister, Rubye Macdonald, the encourager who urged me to start writing in the beginning; to Kevin Thompson, whose business acumen and friendship guided me through publisher duress; to Linda Cruz, sounding board and organizer extraordinaire; and to Doug Warner, friend, computer expert and fixer of the word processing messes that I too often created (although I always blamed the computer).
-Year 2000-
C
ourtney Stuart Dubonnet sat on the terrace of the Chateau in Biarritz, France, her childhood home. She gazed anxiously out over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun, now a bright orange ball of fire, was on its slow descent into the sea, so she knew there wasn’t much daylight left. A frown puckered her forehead, giving her pretty face a petulant appearance as she tapped her fingers nervously on the arm of her chaise lounge.
“Where is that plane?” she fretted with all the youthful impatience of her twenty years. “I should have stayed in New York and waited for the reviews,” she muttered, “instead of running away like a sniveling coward.”
Courtney had flown back to her childhood home on the opening night of her very first musical, “Déjà Vu,” feeling a little timid about attending the gala affair at the most prominent theater in New York City. Her home was her security blanket, the place where she always felt safe when she was troubled or apprehensive about something, and this was no exception. She felt terribly insecure about her attempts at writing musicals, afraid she could never measure up to her grandmother, Hildy. She was in awe of Hildy’s success, and always had been, ever since she was old enough to understand the tremendous accomplishments of Grandy Hildy, as she called her, and whom she loved dearly.
Being the daughter of the very talented dancer and singer, Countess Cameron Stuart Dubonnet, and granddaughter of the famous Lady Hilary Stuart, foremost writer and composer of musicals in the world, gave Courtney a lot to live up to. Sometimes she wondered why she even tried, but her talent insisted on expressing itself, refusing to lie dormant. She could no more stem the tide of its natural flow than put a plug in Niagara Falls.
Cammie had offered to help Courtney with her singing and dancing, and she had done very well with it, but the tremendous urge she felt to write and compose couldn’t be ignored. So Grandy Hildy was the one she finally turned to for guidance.
Everyone knows who I am! They’re expecting great things! she lamented. They’ll compare me to my mother and grandmother! How can I face anyone if “Déjà Vu” is a flop?
She looked out over the horizon once more and heaved a big sigh as she looked up to heaven. Please, God, she prayed, let the reviews be good!
Suddenly her ears detected the slight hum of motors. She sat up and grabbed the binoculars, peering anxiously through the lenses. Soon the plane was in clear sight, even without the use of the binoculars. The pilot landed gracefully on the landing strip outside the Chateau.
Courtney jumped up and flew down the three flights of stairs to the door and out to the ramp. She couldn’t have gone any faster if she had wings. Her long, blond hair blew in the wind and bounced excitedly as she ran out to the plane.
The pilot saw her and grinned, waving a package as he climbed out. “Les voila!” he exclaimed, handing her a bundle of newspapers. He hurriedly climbed back into the plane to continue his overnight deliveries.
“Merci! Au revoir!” Courtney called after him. She turned and ran back into the Chateau and up the stairs to the terrace.
Her knees felt a little wobbly as she collapsed into the comfortable chaise with the package of newspapers on her lap. Now that she had them in her possession she hesitated, afraid the reviews wouldn’t live up to her high aspirations.
She sat there, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she tried to muster up the courage to at least take a peek at them. Her emotions seesawed from fear and doubt to hope, then back to fear. She welcomed the interruption as she heard the sliding glass door open, and she turned to see her beloved Grandy Hildy standing there smiling at her.
The passing years had taken very little toll on Hildy. She was as beautiful as ever with her angelic face and blonde hair, brushed back now in an updo rather than tumbling over her shoulders as it used to. Anyone seeing Courtney and Hildy together would know they were related. Courtney looked like a young carbon copy of her beloved grandmother.
“Well,” Hildy greeted her granddaughter, “what are you waiting for? Why don’t we see what the reviews have to say? You couldn’t wait to get them, and now they’re here!”
Courtney looked at Hildy with a pleading expression.
Hildy laughed. “Honey, I understand your reluctance. But you know I have great faith in your talent. I don’t doubt for a minute that the reviews are good.”
She reached for the papers that were in Courtney’s lap and opened the first one. A triumphant grin lit up her whole face as she read the headlines.
“A great new talent!” it said. “‘Déjà Vu’ is a wonderful new musical—one that we’ve all been waiting for! Mark it on your schedule! This is a must see!”
Hildy held up the paper to show Courtney.
The relief that washed over Courtney was too much for her. The anxiety and hope which had grown to mammoth proportions gave way like a pent up dam whose waters suddenly broke through the walls and came pouring out, and she burst into a flood of tears.
Hildy sat down beside her and took her in her arms. “Hey—hey—I know how you feel,” she consoled her. “I’ve been there many times, remember? With each one I went through the same thing. It never got easier. Just let go and enjoy it, sweetie. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
Suddenly Courtney jumped up. She brushed away the tears as the sobs quickly turned to a cry of triumph. “Yippee!!” she shrieked. She could be heard all over the Chateau.
Cammie and Jeremy came running out to the terrace. When they saw their daughter’s face and the newspapers that were in clear sight, they didn’t need to guess. They knew.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Courtney exclaimed, reverting to her child-hood names for her parents, “they liked it! No—they loved it!” She turned to Hildy. “Thank you! Thank you!” she said, throwing her arms around her beloved grandmother. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”
“Oh, you would have managed,” Hildy told her. “Talent like yours would have found a way to express itself, with or without me.”
“No,” Courtney disagreed, “you taught me things I would never have known without you.” She tilted her head to one side and grinned. “It’s all your fault, and I love you for it!”
At this point Courtney’s grandfather, Lord Jay Stuart, Hildy’s husband, appeared. In spite of the combination of white-blonde hair that now crowned his head, he was as handsome as ever. Neither he nor Hildy looked old enough to be grandparents.
“What’s all this commotion about?” he asked. A grin broke over his face as he saw the headlines. “Now why doesn’t this surprise me?”
He opened his arms and Courtney rushed into them.
She squealed with delight. “Sir Jaybird!” the nickname she had called him since she could talk, “I can’t believe it! They loved ‘Déjà Vu!’ They loved it! Oh!” She broke away from Jay and danced the full length of the terrace.
Zack Davis stood in the doorway, a wide, affectionate grin on his face—Zack, the detective and dear friend who had saved both Hildy and Cammie from the devious schemes of Gregory Wilcox, Sr. and his son, Gregory, Jr., as well as Gregory’s mother, the Countess Lilli Claude. Zack was a frequent visitor at the Chateau in Biarritz. Gregory, Jr. and his mother Lilli had been in prison for twenty-one years, and would be there the rest of their lives.