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“Because the first curveball that life threw at me…” She paused and waved her free hand. “I ran away and came back here. I’m not proud of that.”
Vi studied her for a moment. “You’re not your father, Adair. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Perhaps it was, Adair thought. Her aunt had always been able to hit the nail on the head. Perhaps that fear was at the heart of the gnawing anxiety she’d felt ever since she’d left Chicago.
“When your mother, Marianne, died, he did run,” Vi said. “He hid for years, burying himself in his art and his teaching at the college.”
“I’ve never understood him. He met Beth Sutherland when I was nine, the summer that she did her research in the library and we had all those long afternoon playdates with the Sutherland boys. Nell saw Dad kiss her once beneath the stones. We thought they might get married and that we’d all become a family. But then she went back to Chicago and he went back to his painting and we didn’t see any of them again until the wedding seven years ago. And Beth and Dad are so happy now, traveling the world, each pursuing their dreams. Why did they wait?”
“Because they needed to. They had young children to think about, careers to pursue. She came here to do her research shortly after her husband had been found guilty of fraud and sent to prison. His family was wealthy and they tried to sue for custody. She felt that building her career was essential to holding on to her sons. And your father always had his art to return to. They waited for a better time. That’s where you’re different, Adair. You don’t wait for anything.”
Adair blinked. “I don’t?”
Vi laughed. “Good Lord, I can barely keep up with you. You didn’t even have your bags all unpacked when that feature writer from the Times visited us for an interview. I could almost see the lightbulb go on over your head. The very next day you were plotting out a business plan for the castle. And when the article stirred up interest in the legend and Eleanor’s missing sapphires, you had brochures printed to hand out to the tourists who started arriving on the weekends.”
Adair shrugged. “I just capitalized on the buzz the rumors of a missing and possibly priceless collection of gems created. They’ll die down again.”
“The point I’m making is that you didn’t hesitate to capitalize on that buzz to promote the legend surrounding the stones. I’ve never known you to hide, Adair. And while you were showering and changing, I’m betting you marshaled together a strategy for handling Bunny and Rexie tomorrow morning.”
Adair took a sip of her wine. “I think I’ve got that covered. Sure, lightning struck during the rehearsal, but did it do any permanent damage? No. The stone arch is still there. Indestructible. So it still has the power to unite Rexie with the love of her life on Saturday. And that marriage will be just as indestructible.”
“Very nice argument.”
“Yeah. If Lawrence Banes is the love of her life,” Adair said. “He was late to the rehearsal, and it was his schedule that had required it to take place two days before the wedding. Plus, he was texting on his cell instead of trying to support Rexie when she became hysterical after the lightning strike.”
Vi merely met her eyes, saying nothing. It was a ploy that her aunt had used very successfully when she and her sisters had been trying to explain some of the mischief they’d gotten into.
“Okay, maybe he’s just a jerk,” she conceded. “A jerk she’s in love with.”
“Or maybe he’s just as nervous as the bride. When you first explained your business plan to me you defined our role pretty clearly.”
Adair raised a hand, palm out. “Right. We’re not matchmakers or relationship counselors. Our job is to provide the perfect wedding and let the stone arch do its work.”
She rose then and walked to the low stone wall that bordered the veranda. Beyond the gardens she could see the curve of the stone arch. Vi joined her and put an arm around her shoulder. “But? I hear a but in there.”
“I can’t help thinking that’s what the lightning strike was about. I suggested to Rexie that she kiss Lawrence today during the rehearsal to seal the deal. That way she could walk down the aisle on Saturday knowing that she was marrying her true love. But the lightning prevented the kiss. Maybe the power of the stones is working against this wedding.”
Even as she said the words, an image from an old movie filled her mind—a bride running down the aisle. Quickly, she shoved it aside. That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Did it? “We really need to pull off this wedding, Aunt Vi.”
Vi gave her a hug. “Then you’re going to find a way to do it. Why don’t you go down to the arch now and think about it while I get started on dinner. Use the power.”
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Adair moved around the veranda’s low wall and started down one of the paths. Gardening wasn’t her thing. She couldn’t even begin to name the plants that bloomed everywhere in profusion.
Except for the roses. And she’d recognized the lilacs and violets earlier in the spring. Gardening was one of her aunt Vi’s talents. Angus One had built the original garden for Eleanor but it had been well tended by their descendants. In fact, all the MacPhersons who’d been born and raised here at the castle had benefitted from a very rich gene pool. Some of them had turned to education. It was one of her great-great-uncles who’d been a cofounder of the nearby Huntleigh College. There were three paintings in the castle that bore Eleanor’s signature. And Angus One was credited with the design of the castle. And he had to have had some serious engineering skills to have pulled off the construction of the stone arch.
Stepping out of the gardens, she crossed the grass verge until she reached the row of chairs they’d placed in front of the stones for the rehearsal. The arch itself was ten feet tall at its center, ten feet long and eight feet wide. The summer the Sutherland triplets had played here, they’d measured it off to the inch.
The boys had been ten that year, she’d been nine and her sisters eight and six. They’d been fascinated by the Sutherlands. Cam in particular had intrigued her. They’d taken turns deciding the games they would play on those long afternoons. And the ones Cam chose had been her favorites. There was always a risk involved, something that made her heart race faster.
His favorite game had been “pirate and treasure.” More than once he’d chosen her as his partner, and together they’d climbed up the cliff face to the west of the castle. Adair’s heart raced just thinking about it. Aunt Vi and her father had always forbidden them to go to the cliffs. But they could hardly admit that to the Sutherlands.
When she realized she was smiling, Adair made herself stop. She hadn’t come here to the stone arch to think about Cam Sutherland. She’d managed not to think about him for years. She hadn’t even seen him since that night after their parents’ wedding, when she and her sisters had come out here with a bottle of champagne to write out their secret fantasies about their ideal fantasy lovers.
She’d written her fantasy about Cam. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head from the instant her eyes had met his during the ceremony. In that moment of eye contact only, no one else had existed. The intensity of the awareness she’d felt, the depth of it, had been something she’d never experienced before. When he’d asked her to dance later, she’d seen the challenge in his eyes. He’d known the effect he was having on her. But she’d refused the dance, preferring the safety she’d felt in his brother Reid’s arms.
It was only later, with a little help from the champagne, that she’d given full flight to her desire and her fantasy. Just thinking about it made her knees feel so weak that she sank onto the narrow ledge that ran along the side of the arch. Cam spelled trouble for her. And she didn’t kid herself. She’d increased the problem exponentially when she’d written her fantasy down on paper and buried it in the arch.
The whole thing had been her idea, and she’d talked her sisters into doing the same thing. Adair the great planner. In the back of her mind she’d had some idea that if she wrote a fantasy about Reid or Duncan, she could negate what she was feeling for Cam.
Hadn’t worked out. The instant her pen had struck paper, it had all been about Cam and no one but Cam.
Calm down. Adair forced herself to breathe in, breathe out.
You’ve avoided him for years. His job at the CIA has kept him overseas. There’s nothing to worry about.
Except the power of the stones.
And there might be a way to lessen that.…
Dropping to her knees, Adair traced her fingers along the base of the arch, trying to find the loose stones that she and her sisters had discovered when they were children. Behind them there was a niche just big enough to hold the metal box they’d used for years. Any fantasy that she’d put into the box could be taken out. Then she just might have less to worry about.
