Finders Keepers Read online

  “Brothers, you know?”

  “Not from experience, no, but I’ve got a good imagination.”

  “You sure do. I wish I was as quick with a lie as you are—”

  “Beth!”

  She laughed. “Holly, Holly. Julian told me you’re Zachariah’s great-granddaughter. I know you’re after those goblets, and frankly, I hope you get them. Whether Zachariah swiped them in the first place or not, seems to me he got the short end of the stick that night. I think Julian just ought to give them to you.”

  “He won’t—”

  “Not a chance, no.”

  “You didn’t happen... um ...to see what he did with them?”

  “He put them back in that iron box, tucked them under his arm and took them with him.”

  “Home, you think?”

  “Yes, I most definitely do think. I also think he’s just daring you to go after them and—”

  Holly shook her head, adamantly. “No, your aunt had a cancellation for tonight, and I packed up my van and plan to head out tomorrow.”

  “Because of Julian?”

  “Let’s just say it’s time to be shed of Mill Brook, Vermont.”

  But it was because of Julian. If he’d reacted differently to her being Zachariah Wingate’s great-granddaughter, if he’d given any sign to the rest of Mill Brook that he’d become more than a conscientious host to Holly during her stay up at his place—if he’d shown he cared about her. No, it was time to move on.

  “Does he know you’re leaving?” Beth asked.

  “I’ve never made any secret that tonight would be my last night in town.”

  “If you really want to know how he feels about you.” Julian’s only sister went on, “just steal the goblets.”

  Holly had managed a laugh. “You’ll testify on my behalf in court if he has me arrested?”

  She’d grinned. “Sure.”

  “I don’t know... Driving down that driveway of his in daylight’s been enough to take ten years off my life. At night—”

  Beth interrupted, “Just remember what he tells me: There’s nothing out there at night that isn’t there during the day.”

  It was the kind of advice that sounded okay until you were stuck in the middle of the wilderness at midnight, Holly decided an hour later. She pulled over into a small clearing and idled a moment, wondering if the mountain air had made her bonkers. She’d come maybe two-thirds of the way up the interminable driveway. That made about three-quarters of a mile of trees and bleak road up ahead and about a mile and a half of trees and bleak road behind. She refused to contemplate what kind of night creatures might be out and about. Best just to stick to the plan. Such as it was. It was more an act of desperation.

  If she left Mill Brook with nothing else, she had to leave with the goblets. And if Julian decided to come after them... and her... then so be it. If not— It was a prospect she simply couldn’t imagine.

  Julian could feel the cold on his cheeks, but the rest of his body was warm enough as he walked through the snow on a path that cut into the woods parallel to his driveway. His eyes and ears were attuned to the night. As his vision adjusted to the darkness of the woods, he could make out broad shapes and silhouettes. He considered using a flashlight counterproductive, an intrusion. His hearing was keener, more careful and deliberate than in daylight. He could hear the sounds of breezes in the leafless trees, the occasional scamper of a night creature.

  And the putter of Holly Paynter’s van on his road.

  He had been out with the dogs for almost an hour, thinking about her. Wishing he’d pressed her to turn down his aunt and stay with him again tonight. He hadn’t wanted to be selfish. Staying with him would only make her departure more difficult. And she needed to leave. She was a wanderer... and a tale-teller of the first order.

  Was she going to leave without the goblets?

  He wouldn’t bet on it.

  ‘You’re playing games with her because of me,” Adam had said. “You’re making assumptions about her and about yourself based on what happened between me and Melissa. That’s stupid and self “destructive.”

  Adam had never had a problem with being ambiguous. But, Julian wondered, was what he said true?

  He heard Holly switch off the van’s engine, and the night once more was still. Had she gone off the road? Gotten stuck? Not Holly. She’d just talk her van into getting back onto the road.

  She was up to something.

  The goblets...

  Softly calling the dogs, Julian left the path and felt his boots sink into the deep, virgin snow, up to his knees. It wouldn’t be easy going, but it’d be quiet and fast.

  He’d catch up with her in no time.

  Chapter Ten

  Telling herself it wasn’t that cold out, Holly flipped on the flashlight she’d bought to replace the one she’d lost during her foray into the Danvers House. The thin beam of light illuminated only a limited path, but she pointed the flashlight down and focused its beam on the packed snow, ice and dirt that was Julian Stiles’ driveway. Whatever might be lurking in the darkness around her, she told herself, wasn’t her problem. Her world was reduced to the two or three yards in front of her. She moved quickly, the light wind numbing her cheeks, and she was glad she’d had the wherewithal to change into corduroys, turtleneck, sweater and heavy socks and her gum shoes. The Vermont woods at midnight were no place for silk charmeuse.

  Or you, she added silently. If anyone had told you two months ago you’d be out here tramping around in the wilderness you’d have laughed yourself silly.

  And yet, here she was. Not laughing, for certain. Some kind of inexplicable feeling, some weirdness, even desperation, had gripped her since she’d first spotted that piece on the rediscovery of the goblets. It was as if her life would never be the same until she came to Mill Brook... and even then. A part of her seemed to be in this town. She’d sensed that much, if vaguely, since childhood and Grandpa Wingate’s earliest tales of the evil doings of Edward Danvers and, to a slightly lesser extent—in that he didn’t actually do the expelling—Jonathan Stiles.

  She scoffed, muttering aloud, ‘That’s the kind of thinking you do when your brain’s operating in below-freezing temperatures.”

  She walked faster, hoping her footsteps would drown out any spooky noises coming from the darkness. Any creatures lurking beyond the range of her flashlight doubtlessly were more frightened of her than she should reasonably be of them. Bears would be hibernating. What else could there be? Birds, maybe a few raccoons. . .bobcats. She’d hate to meet up with a bobcat. And fox. They didn’t hibernate. Deer—bucks could be fierce.

  “Lions and tigers and bears—oh my!”

  But she was no Dorothy and this no Land of Oz. Holly could hear her words and her laugh echo hollowly in the night. The house couldn’t be too much farther. She hoped Julian would be asleep, and she could sneak in and out without his noticing and— No, you don’t. She shuddered at her own confusion. Her plan was a sound one—it’d work. She could swipe the goblets and slip out of Mill Brook for good.

  The question was, did she want her plan to work?

  Her toes were getting cold. She picked up her pace but slowed down all at once, sure she’d heard something. Her heart pounded, and she stumbled, her knees wobbling, her imagination running wild.

  Then a creature shot out across the road, and then another, and she jumped, so startled she couldn’t make a sound, expecting she was going to be attacked and ripped to shreds at any moment.

  “Pen— Ink! Over here.”

  Julian’s voice, low and commanding, came from the darkness off to Holly’s left, but the two dogs had already vanished into the woods on the opposite side of the road. Holly scanned the woods with her flashlight until its beam fell upon Julian’s dark figure climbing over a snow-covered stone wall. He jumped down, landing softly beside her.

  “Whoa—turn that thing off. You’re wrecking my night vision.”

  Holly kept her flashlight on. “Hello
.”

  “I guess that’s a fairly neutral way to open up a conversation in the woods in the middle of the night. Sorry about the dogs. They must have smelled a rabbit or something—maybe a rat. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to scare you to death.”

  “You didn’t,” she said, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush. “You only scared me half to death. I didn’t know what in blazes was coming at me.”

  He put one gloved finger on the end of her flashlight and pushed it aside, so it wasn’t shining in his face. “A guilty conscience at work. What’re you doing out here?”

  “Walking to your house. My van...”

  “Your van’s fine. Don’t try to tell me it broke down because you obviously keep that thing in perfect running condition. And I heard you, Holly. You came to a nice, neat, intentional stop.”

  She sighed, feeling less cold. ‘‘So?’’

  “So you came back for the goblets, didn’t you?”

  “Why are you always so suspicious?”

  “Because I still can’t figure you out.”

  “You think this week’s been nothing but a ploy for me to get my hands on the Wingate goblets, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t,” he said. “I do think, though, that you’ve a deep, personal commitment to the Revere goblets that might cloud your judgment.”

  Holly sighed. Why did she feel exhilarated instead of trapped? Madness. She went on, “Okay, maybe I haven’t been altogether straightforward with you—”

  “That’s an understatement, sweetheart.”

  “Well, I never expected to go to bed with a man who has Danvers and Stiles blood running through his veins. It’s making me crazy, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing.” She broke off, pointing her flashlight straight down at the ground, so that only a small circle beside her feet was illuminated. “I don’t think you do, either.”

  “You and my brother agree on that,” Julian said, his voice low and warm as she shivered. “I haven’t had a minute’s peace since you almost fell on my head.”

  “I haven’t had one since I spotted that article on the goblets.”

  “You’re cold. Let’s go inside and get warm by the fire and talk. Come on, we can take your van the rest of the way.”

  She touched his arm. ‘‘Maybe I should just go on back to town.”

  Although the light wasn’t on his face, she could feel his eyes on her, and he covered her hand with his. “Is that what you want?”

  “No, I guess it isn’t. But you drive, okay? You know the road better than I do.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  His voice matched the quiet and the depth of the woods, soothing Holly’s taut nerves. She turned back toward the van and raised her flashlight, but Julian urged her to switch it off. She complied.

  “Just stand here a minute,” he said. “Let your eyes adjust.”

  “I don’t know if I want them to. It’s pretty creepy out here.”

  “Nothing out here that’s not there in daylight.”

  “So your sister tried to tell me.” She frowned. “That’s not all that comforting a thought, you know. I still think you must be part wolf.”

  His laughter licked her spine, down low. “Hold that thought.”

  Her eyes adjusted gradually to the lack of light, and she began to see silhouettes of trees against the starlit sky and the dark path of the narrow road slicing through the woods. Beside her, Julian neither moved nor spoke. They stood together, listening to the wind in the leafless branches of the trees.

  Finally Julian whispered, “Not a bad place to be, is it?”

  She shook her head. “No, it isn’t—it’s quite a wonderful place to be.” She could hear the emotion in her voice, knew the night was working its magic on her. “I’m ready. We can go.”

  His well-developed night vision and familiarity with the road to his advantage, Julian guided her with a hand lightly pressed to her shoulder. She didn’t mind. Independent though she was, slipping on the ice and falling on her behind and having to be carried out of there would have been a far greater indignity. She preferred to think she had the strength of character to accept another’s greater experience at such moments.

  Also, she liked the feel of his hand on her. His closeness. She wasn’t thinking ahead, plotting and scheming, just enjoying the moment.

  By the time they reached the van, its toasty warm inside had cooled to nearly match the outside temperature. Holly rubbed her gloved hands together, shivering now that she wasn’t moving. Julian started the engine, but the heat was still on high and gusts of cold air blew in their faces. She reached over and cut off the fans until the engine warmed up.

  “We can warm up back at the house,” Julian said.

  “The sooner the better.”

  He laughed softly. “As tempting as you are and as much as I plan to make love to you in this van one of these days, the thought of jumping into that cot of yours—”

  “Why, Julian Stiles, I was just thinking about my frozen fingers.”

  ‘‘Good point. We’ll have to warm up your hands before we work on warming up the rest of you—or especially me. Cold hands could cause some real problems.”

  She laughed. “The mind you have.”

  As it turned out, her hands warmed up quite fast and proved no problem whatever. They made love in front of the fire, slowly, silently, not wanting to destroy the passion and tenderness of the moment with talk of sterling-silver goblets and a hundred-year-old scandal and a wanderer and recluse who wanted to be together, had to be together, yet didn’t know how, except this way, just for the moment.

  Curling up under the afghan with him, Holly felt the heat of the fire on her toes and knew the snatched moments would never be enough—not for him, not for her. But could she ask herself to give up who she was for him? Could he ask the same of himself? No, she thought, I don’t want him to change...

  She drifted off to sleep, hoping her dreams would provide an answer.

  The coals in the fireplace were still warm when Julian came downstairs just before six. He restarted the fire, let out the dogs and put on a pot of coffee. There wasn’t a sound from the loft; they’d made their way up there sometime before dawn. He’d awakened to find Holly’s long, bare leg thrown over his and the scent of her strawberry-red hair in his nostrils. He could still taste her. It had been all he could do not to make love to her again.

  But in the cold before sunrise, common sense had prevailed.

  He wasn’t going to destroy Holly Paynter. She was leaving Mill Brook today, and he wasn’t going to stop her.

  When the coffee was ready, he poured himself a mug and sat by the fire, on the floor. He could see her smile and her so-blue eyes and feel her smooth skin under his hands. He would never forget their nights together. Never.

  He could hear her stirring upstairs, wondered if she was having the same attack of clear-headed thinking he’d had. It was one thing in the heat of passion to decide to go for the moment. Quite another to wake up and consider the future. He had no regrets about their week together. The thought of Holly’s departure filled him with sadness and anxiety, but he was coming to look upon it as another step in their developing relationship. An uncertain step, to be sure. He didn’t know whether they could survive it. But there was no avoiding it. He knew that now.

  She leaned over the loft railing, her tangles of strawberry hair flopping into her face, her eyes shining. “Morning—do I smell coffee?”

  “You do. Come on down.”

  “Mountain man hours,” she grumbled good-naturedly, and he could hear her skipping down the stairs.

  There was no indication in her gait, her voice or her face that she’d had a similar attack of coldhearted rationality.

  “Don’t get up—I’ll fetch my own coffee.”

  She padded across his living-room floor to the kitchen wearing only knee socks and his navy chamois shirt, not very well buttoned up. You’re doomed, my man. Julian thought, steeling himself against his all-encompas
sing attraction to her.

  “I’ve noticed this place stays pretty warm.” she said, emerging from the kitchen sipping from his biggest mug. “Is that because of its design or because it’s so small?”

  “Both. Holly-”

  “I haven’t been so warm this time of day since I left Florida.” She settled down beside him, straightening her legs so that her toes were close to the fire. “‘Course maybe the temperature in the house has nothing to do with it. You’re looking awfully stern this morning, Julian. What’s up?”

  “Maybe I’m a bear when I get up.”

  “A wolf at night, a bear in the morning—interesting metamorphosis.”

  “If you say so.” Then her eyes narrowed, and she peered at him closely, suddenly realizing they weren’t having an idle, bantering conversation. “Julian, what’s on your mind?”

  He forced himself not to look away, to meet her gaze dead-on. “I think you should stick to your original plan and leave Mill Brook this morning.”

  “Yes. But for whose sake, Julian—yours or mine?”

  “Yours—and mine. Holly, your life’s on the road, not here in Mill Brook. You said yourself you’re a wanderer. Don’t change because of me. And don’t ask me to change, because I know I can’t. My life’s here.” He was hurting inside, more than he’d have ever thought possible. “We could go on like this for another week, maybe two, maybe even a month, but you’ve got your life to live and I’ve got mine.”

  “No trying to build a life together?”

  “I’m not saying that won’t happen in the future, just not right now. Yeah, I’d like to think what we’ve started here is the beginning of a process, but who knows? I can’t predict how you’re going to feel when you go back to your world, or how I’m going to feel when you leave here. I do know, though, that what we’ve created is artificial—we’ve both put our lives on hold this past week. I need to know what happens when you go back to your life as a storyteller and I go back to being the Mill Brook recluse.”

  “I understand,” she said quietly...but there was something about her tone that made Julian eye her more closely. And he saw not confusion or hurt, but determination. The kind of grit that had brought her to Mill Brook after the “Wingate” goblets to begin with.