The Amber Stone (9 page)

“I’ve been busy,” Teresa said, wanting to be polite, although she wanted to be left alone too.

“I’ve got another book you’re going to adore. A classic romance, where the heroine suffers tremendously but triumphs in the end, and another JS Braden book you’re going to stay up all night reading.”

Teresa smiled. “You need to have a long talk with my sister Michelle. She thinks my book reading habits are a problem.”

Pernelle dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. “She just doesn’t understand.” She leaned on the bookshelf, her eyes sparkling. “So have you got any news?”

“No,” Teresa replied, confused. She never had any news to share. Her life was as exciting as mayonnaise.

Pernelle rested her chin in her hands. “What I mean to say is have you met him yet? The mysterious stranger,” she added when Teresa continued to look blank.

Teresa lifted a book and gazed at the cover, trying to cool her temper. The last person she wanted to talk about was Sean Casey. “As a matter of fact I have,” she said in a low voice, hoping her disinterest would stop the conversation.

Pernelle rubbed her hands together. “Go on. Tell me.”

“There’s nothing really exciting to tell,” Teresa said, replacing the book. Had Sean seen Pernelle, he probably wouldn’t have dismissed her so readily. “I saw him down at the bay, he told me to leave him alone.”

Pernelle laughed. “He hasn’t changed.”

Teresa turned to her. “You know him?”

She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Very well, I’m afraid.”

“How do you know him?” she asked, then regretted it when Pernelle turned and motioned for her to follow.

“Come to the back and I’ll tell you.”

Teresa shook her head. “I really don’t think…”

“I know you’re dying of curiosity.”

“I don’t like him.”

Pernelle laughed. “Welcome to the club,” she said, then opened the door marked Employees Only.

Teresa sighed and followed.

They settled in the storage room; it smelled of musty old books and papers. Teresa moved some books off a chair and set them on the ground, then sat and waited.

“He was a family friend,” Pernelle said. “My husband knew his wife.”

“You’re married?”

“Was dear.” She held up her bare finger. “You notice the ring is missing.”

“What happened?” She couldn’t imagine anyone divorcing such a fun vibrant woman.

“I drove him crazy. Not literally, so you can relax, we just weren’t well suited.”

“Oh.” Teresa thought for a moment, trying to process the information. “I haven’t seen his wife.”

“You won’t. They’re not together either.”

She’d sensed a loss. Had it been the loss of his marriage that haunted him? Teresa mentally shook her head. It didn’t matter. “So you’ve both come here to mend a broken heart,” she said. “Perhaps you should go to Hollow Cove and see him again.”

Pernelle vigorously shook her head. “I don’t purposely go running into my past, I prefer to look ahead. Besides, I don’t plan on seeing him again, not until I’m ready.”

“But do you miss your husband?” she asked, thinking of her sister Michelle’s failed marriage. “What was he like?”

Pernelle crossed her leg and swung her foot looking a little smug. “Probably not as much as he misses me.”

Teresa stared stunned. “Why?”

Pernelle shrugged and continued to swing her foot. “Because I didn’t want him focused on anyone but me and now he can’t.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure no man could ever forget you.”

Pernelle laughed. “I like to make sure of that. I can’t help it.”

Teresa was silent for a moment, unable to comprehend what she’d heard.

“I bet you’re wondering what this has to do with Sean?”

“No, really I—”

“He’d already left his wife by then. Although that’s not the story he’d tell you. He’d say that she left him.”

Teresa nodded ready to leave. “I’m glad you’ve both moved on.”

Pernelle took out a compact from her pocket and checked her makeup. “She was a lot like me. Attractive, intelligent, wealthy. She was a savvy and brilliant newscaster.”

Teresa fought to keep her expression neutral as she remembered his cruel words. Was he thinking of his wife when he said those words to her? Was he laughing at her now? Had he wiped her kiss from his lips? “I wonder why she married
him
,” she said, not understanding how such a cultured woman would end up with such a rugged, offensive man. Perhaps it was all about opposites attract.

“He was different back then. We all were.” She laughed. “Don’t look so upset,” she said misinterpreting the slight scowl on Teresa’s face. Pernelle patted her knee. “I don’t know about Sean, but I never loved my husband. And some would say he’s better off without me. So are you going to see him again?”

Teresa started. “Me? Never. I’m going to stay as far away from him as possible.”

“I’ve never heard a woman say that about him before. I think you should go after him. You’re the kind of change that he needs.”

Because I’m not attractive, intelligent and wealthy?
Teresa wanted to say, but kept her thoughts to herself. Perhaps if Sean knew she had money, he wouldn’t have discarded her offer of friendship so coldly. “Unfortunately, he’s not the change I’m looking for.” Teresa took the two books Pernelle had selected for her, then left.

***

She decided to stop by Bertha’s after leaving the bookstore. She loved Bertha’s house, which was located on the tip of South Bank, situated on an acre of land. Teresa walked inside since Bertha always left the door open. The house smelled like strawberry candles.

“What’s wrong?” Bertha asked, removing a kettle from the stove.

Teresa was not startled when she did not turn around. Bertha could hear a feather move. “Nothing.”

Bertha sighed. “You’ve started to lie to me now?”

Teresa sat on one of the chrome seats, watching Bertha in her flowing red dress and matching turban, looking out of place in her modern steel kitchen. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“What do you have there?” she asked, looking at Teresa’s bag.

“Two books Pernelle suggested.”

Bertha sniffed.

“I don’t know why you don’t like her. She talks too much but she’s always been nice to me.”

“She’s frivolous.”

“When you’re that pretty you’re allowed to be frivolous.”

“I don’t mean in looks, but in manner. Be careful there. Besides, you’re prettier than her in the way that counts.”

“Spoken like a true friend.”

Bertha settled into a chair and studied her for a moment. “Did you want to know more about Sean?”

Teresa briefly covered her ears. “Why does everyone seem to think I have an interest in knowing about him?”

“When did I become ‘everyone’?”

She let her hands fall to the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to exaggerate, it’s just that I had to endure twenty minutes of Pernelle telling me about Sean and his former beautiful wife.”

“How did she know that?”

“She knew his wife. She said it wasn’t a good marriage.” She held up her hand. “Not that I care in the least.”

“That’s a change. What happened?”

Teresa swallowed feeling her hurt resurface. “I knew that he wouldn’t fall into my arms, but I thought there was a connection. I didn’t think he’d make fun of me. I know that his unruly hair doesn’t hide how good looking he is, but I thought…I didn’t think he’d be cruel.”

“He’s not cruel. You once told me he had the hands of a healer. Well, he has the hands of a handler too.”

Teresa gasped knowing the significance. She remembered as a young woman on spring break from college, overhearing her parents speaking in the living room when they thought she was asleep in bed.

“Finding a man for her won’t be easy,” her mother said.

“We don’t have to find him, he’ll find her. Relax, my darling. All our daughters are safe.”

“But how will she know him?”

Teresa leaned in closer.

“Come in, Teresa,” her father said with a smile in his voice. “You’ll need to hear this.”

She walked into the room with a sheepish grin. “I was just getting something from the kitchen.”

Her father motioned to a chair. “Sit down.” Once she did he said, “You know I consider my daughters my most precious gems. But every stone needs a different setting. You’ll need a man who’s strong enough to hold you and brave enough to protect you. You’ll know him by his touch.” Her father lifted up his hands. “He’ll have the hands of a handler.”

Her mother shook her head in dismay. “But men like that are rare.”

“But they do exist.”

Teresa frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Handlers are a very special breed,” her father said. “They are usually women, but some men have the gift too. They handle things with care. Not everyone can do that, but they do so naturally. They rarely break things, their fingers always bring a sense of order and women like you need their touch because they know how to keep you safe…”

Her father’s words lingered in her mind as she stared at Bertha now. “Then my father lied to me because he’s not safe at all.” She tapped her chest and spoke before her friend could. “I know how people see me. I know they think I’m odd, strange, maybe a little crazy. I can take that, but when they make fun of my looks…” She shook her head as if searching for words. “I know I’m not fashionable or slim, but I’m a good person.”

“Of course you are,” Bertha said, taking Teresa’s hand, her face perplexed. “What did he say to you?”

“I can’t say it without getting angry.” She took a deep breath. “You’re right that he has dark shadows and he can keep them. I know when to stay away and I will.” She held up a hand. “That’s all I want to say about it.”

Instead she told Bertha about Dr. Knox’s report and her meeting with Detective Hartnett. Sensing her restlessness, Bertha told her about a small beauty shop whose owner was thinking about going out of business, knowing Teresa liked finding nice deals. The shop was hosting a sale today on bath salts and other select items. Teresa drove to the location.

When she approached the building, she was surprised it was still in business. It was a small house with a wraparound porch and crooked sign saying “Beautiful You”, hidden on one of South Bank’s quiet side streets. Inside was quaint with antique furniture and rows of beauty products, bath items and jewelry. The owner greeted her looking sad and worn. She was a heavyset woman, whose shoulders slumped with considerable effort. Her eyes were deep-set and half closed. She began showing Teresa around with the slow movements of a lugubrious bloodhound.

“It’s just too much work,” the woman said when Teresa asked her why she was closing. “Business is good, but I just don’t care anymore. I’m overwhelmed with handling inventory and online orders picking up…”

The woman rattled on, but Teresa barely listened, looking at the potential. The business wasn’t failing, it was doing well, probably not as well if it had been located in Bedford, but she clearly had a clientele from the look of the other customers. If she added herbs to the selection of offerings, she could expand it. This place was her chance for a new start. She now knew how she could use the money Bess had given her. She would help people be beautiful on the inside and out.

“Never underestimate the power of the right cream,” her mother told her one day after a spa treatment her daughter had given her. She’d indulged in all the skin creams and gels Teresa would create—whether the experiment worked or not, patiently giving her suggestions to improve them. Of the three sisters, Teresa spent the most time with her mother because they both loved gardening, body lotions and dining. Her mother had a keen taste and hosted elaborate dinners. Teresa remembered how she’d beamed with excitement the day when she was allowed to help her.

She was not an easy woman to know, however. She spoke in a clipped manner, reminiscent of her nanny and the strict English headmasters she’d studied under and at times she cared more about decorum than her children’s feelings. But Teresa saw past the hard demeanor and sensed her mother’s softer side. Teresa could always tease out a grin even when her mother meant to scold her.

Teresa looked around the store, knowing she could turn it into a store her mother would love.

“Are you willing to sell it?” Teresa asked her once the woman had finished speaking.

“You’d want this place?”

“Depends on the price.”

The woman gave a tired sigh as if it took all the breath in her body to reply and gave her an amount.

“I’ll buy it,” Teresa said.

Her eyes widened a fraction then quickly dropped. “I’ll get the papers.”

A week later, Teresa sat and stared at the signed documents wondering how she would tell her sisters.

She sat at the kitchen table contemplating her options when the phone rang. She picked it up and answered.

“Oh Teresa, thank God you’re there,” her Aunt Margaret said. “I hate to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call and you were so kind at the hospital.”

“What is it?”

“Louisa’s been sick all day and we can’t afford to take her to the hospital again. And we don’t have a doctor—”

“I’ll be right there,” Teresa said, then hid her contract and left with her bag of remedies.