Secrets and Sunsets in Azure Bay Read online

  "Don't talk such nonsense," I said, stretching lazily. The view from Cliffs House would be incomparable in my eyes until my death, even if it was a humble drop by comparison to some of Newquay's heights. "Is the dig near one of these places you're talking about?" I suspected the scant description in the article gave him a better perception of its geography than it did me, even after ten years.

  "I would say it's not on the coast. Probably back beyond the dunes that the sea hasn't reclaimed, but I could be wrong," he said. "There are a lot of cavern entrances and potential tombs that would look like possible entrances to old mines — the sort of opening accidentally uncovered by a plough breaking ground or left unmarked if some cows toppled the cairn at some point."

  "I think you've read these books."

  "A couple of them." He reached over and looked at the books on our shelves. "There's a chapter in this one about a Bronze Age discovery. I don't think you've read it." He pulled it out and left it atop the desk. "Are you thinking about volunteering at the dig?"

  "With my time? And with number four pushing for more room?" A short laugh escaped me. "They'll be swamped with volunteers this time, after the publicity from the last dig. There won't be room for all of the people who sign up. How big could it be in a burial tomb carved into a hillside."

  "Bigger than you think," said Matt, mysteriously. He rose, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "How is our newest addition today?" he asked, softly.

  "Growing. Feeling totally cramped," I said. "I think number four may decide to come early."

  "Number three, technically," he said, softly. "I think Joel is number four in the works." But only if we could find a way to come together as a family, as we both knew — otherwise, we would feel like we were the wrong people to look after him through his uncertain future.

  I laid my hand on Matt's arm, breathing out a sigh. "Number three is going to keep me from clambering in potential Bronze Age burial pits or whatever they've uncovered," I said. "But I expect we'll probably get to know more about it with Percy being around. You know he'll probably ask us to tea."

  "With Doctor Pierce-Bishop and her entourage," guessed Matt.

  "What do you think?" My eyebrow lifted again. Matt smiled.

  "I'll go wash up," he said. "What's for tea?"

  "Pasties," I said. "And some leftover lemon trifle. I'll put the pastry in the oven to reheat it soon."

  "How did the call go with the social worker?" He disappeared down the hall, where I knew he was going to change out of his gardening clothes.

  "Oh, you know. The usual." Assuring us that we were making progress, that being slow at it or falling behind was just how the process worked sometimes. Not to give up. She was perky while sharing the hard facts — for someone who was used to having to uproot confused children from one life to another without warning.

  "Do you want chips or a salad with the pies?" I called out.

  "Chips, please," called Matt.

  "Chips, Mummy."

  "Chips! I want chips!" called Heath.

  Three out of four votes. I smiled, glad I was making someone happy with tonight's menu. Whereas the soon-to-arrive member of our family was beginning to feel some regret for today's greasy snack.

  I should have eaten those carrot sticks. I patted my belly softly, feeling the protest going on inside me for one misstep.

  _______________________

  "I know it's not something we planned, but I think we should think about it," I said to Kitty. "Think about what it's going to be like for us in the future. I know that you're fine with bringing Tige to work, but what about when colds or influenza are passing around? You know the toll it takes on my work time when a contagion passes through my house."

  Kitty shrugged. "We'll take turns like we always do," she said. "It hasn't been a problem up to now."

  "With both of us having kids that could get sick?" I answered. "Besides, when the baby comes, I'll be losing even more time. I don't want us to lose business or let down clients."

  Kitty tossed the dried out flowers from the church wreath two services ago into the rubbish bin. "Let's say we can afford it," she said. "Do we want another person about, even part time? It's not so much the pay, it's the training. One blunder and we could be cooked." She put this bluntly, as I expected.

  "I know it could happen," I admitted. "It isn't like we'd be relying on her to step into any tasks immediately, though. We'd find out her limitations first. We're talking about having an assistant to help clean up around the barn after events, help field phone calls, do some basic decorating tasks that anybody can do, the busy work we have a hard time keeping up with."

  "We're that busy, eh?" Kitty cracked a smile.

  "I feel like this girl needs us," I said. "Not just for the job. She's still struggling to grow up in a lot of ways, and she could use some help getting there. She needs someone understanding in her corner. We can give her that, if nothing else."

  I could see Kitty was thinking. She tucked back a loose lock of black curl, one that baby Tige had dislodged from the hair pins earlier. "So you're proposing a trial period, basically," she said.

  "It couldn't hurt," I answered. "She could be really good at this, who knows? We might be relying on her to help out two weddings from now."

  "What does she read at uni?" Kitty asked.

  "I think something scientific," I answered, vaguely. Kitty gave me another look. "But she was good with aesthetics and organization when she worked in Aimee's shop. She used to help with the display windows, I know." At least I assumed.

  Kitty stuck the metal bucket underneath the table, then wheeled Tige's baby walkabout frame away from the box with the wooden serving dishes and the rustic clay vase I had brought from my shelf at home. She straightened her back again. "If you feel that strongly about it, then we'll try her," she said.

  "So the trial period is okay with you?" I said.

  She shrugged. "I reckon we can take the risk this once." She pulled off her work apron. "Do you want to call her and tell her?"

  "Actually, I rang her already to tell her I'd contact her today with the answer, so she said she was coming around," I said. "I couldn't change her mind, so she'll be here soon."

  "All that way for an answer?" Kitty hiked one eyebrow. A short laugh followed. "Now I reckon she must be a nutter."

  "More like overly-eager," I answered. "Want to stick around and meet her? Tell her the good news as a duo?"

  "I have to start cleaning the barn before the photography club's exhibition," said Kitty. "You can tell her the news yourself." She reached for her diaper bag and Tige's baby carrying pouch, just as our front door jingled open. Paula had arrived, sliding her backpack to the floor. Her hair braid was messily twined as if put up in haste, and the t-shirt over her jeans was easily two sizes too big, sporting a logo for a physics club.

  "Sorry," she said, gasping for breath. "I caught a ride part way, then rode my bicycle the rest of the distance." She gazed at us, a gleam of eagerness in her eyes. "Did you decide?"

  I glanced at Kitty, who looked as if her suspicions were confirmed, but also looked slightly impressed. That kind of pluck was promising, right?

  "Kitty this is Paula Smith, my friend Aimee's former shop assistant," I said. "Paula, this is my business partner, Kitty Menton. Event planner, businesswoman, and creative genius extraordinaire."

  "Just Kitty's fine, thanks," my partner answered dryly. She shook hands with Paula. I could still sense some wariness, however. Paula didn't look like the best investment we could make, but I hoped that we were looking at a diamond in the rough, possibly. Or at least a cubic zirconium.

  "So ... did you decide?" Paula glanced at me, then Kitty, then back. "About the job?"

  "We've decided to give you a short period of trial," I said. "We'd like you to come work with us for a few weeks and see if it works for us all."

  Her face lit up. "Oh, thank you," she said. "I promise, I'll work hard and make you glad you gave me this chance. I'm really hard
working, you'll see — I can learn to do anything you need me to do."

  "How about we start with something simple?" I suggested. "Like answering the phone? I have an appointment with our client today, and Kitty's setting up for our next event. Usually we close our office, but if you're willing to answer the phone and take messages — and field the occasional villager with a juicy gossip story — then you can start now."

  "I can do that," she said, quickly. "Can I start now, then?" Another glance between us.

  "Go on," said Kitty. "We have to start somewhere." She hoisted Tige in her arms, the baby bag on her shoulder. "Just take messages, don't put any appointments in the diary."

  "We'll be back later this afternoon, sometime after lunch," I said. "Think you can handle things until then?"

  "Of course," said Paula, nodding — although a little less eagerly than before. "I'll be fine." She sat down on the tall stool with the woven back that was behind our reception desk. She folded her hands on her lap, trying to look as if she fit in, mostly looking stiff and awkward.

  "It's okay to read," I said. Relief lifted like clouds rising, as Paula reached into the back pocket of her jeans and produced a book — something with Isaac Asimov's name on its cover. "Just remember to put it down when the bell or the phone rings, okay?"

  "Okay," she nodded.

  The door shut behind Kitty and I. "Are you sure about this?" she asked me.

  "Sure," I answered. "It's just a few phone calls, right?"

  Kitty's eyebrow flickered again. "Don't think we'll be asking her to take the lead on some wedding tasks anytime soon?" she said. Typical Kitty humor.

  "You never know," I answered, mysteriously. As if.

  "I'd better go if I don't want to be late." I checked the time. "I'll text you if there are any problems, but I don't expect anything to come up."

  "Good thing, because mobile reception is terrible right now," Kitty reminded me.

  The local florist Marian Jones did many of our arrangements for events, but spring was a busy time for her due to the local festival, so I had arranged for the biggest floral arrangements to be finished by a shop in Truro, and I had promised to show our bride the final product, as seen in my sketches.

  Because we wanted to create things inspired by the love of animals and the vibrancy of nature, I had chosen blossoms with appropriate names and character, adding generous splashes of baby's breath in both white and pink to add height and width without creating an overwhelming clash of colors. The florist had put together the sample bouquet, from which multiple identical ones would be created — it was only up to us to provide the right vases for displaying them.

  As I climbed out of my car, I pulled up my mobile videochat app to connect my call with the bride-to-be Jennet Julian — wellborn and a renowned marine biologist, who was engaged to Clement Summers, who ran a successful financial firm in France. It hadn't taken me long to spot the theme that would suit their wedding, since our first meeting took place at a habitat for rescued and retired big game cats, ones either born or bred in captivity. Pictures of cheetahs, elephants, elk, and penguins decorated the walls of her office space, too, like a homage to endangered animals from all parts of the globe.

  The Bold and the Beautiful Bouquet Arrangements was a lot more sophisticated than Ceffylgwyn's typical business, but the arrangements, while beautiful, couldn't best Kitty when it came to creativity and imagination. I kept my hand in by trading off with her when it came to designs, which is why she let me handle a job as 'easy' as this one — a joke which made me roll my eyes.

  I pushed the app button and waited until my bride appeared — pale, light brown, almost fawn-colored hair, and blue eyes. She was tall and thin, with typical English features and her straight hair unfussily pinned back, like in all the photos of her with rescued animals, and the ones from the rehabilitation center in Africa. She greeted me with a smile and a wave.

  "Julianne," she said. "I'm sorry for being late, I had a meeting to finish details for the charity gala."

  "No problem," I said. "Is everything going to plan? If you need some free advice or help, you can always ask."

  The charity event she spoke of was taking the place of a formal engagement party for the couple — they decided to use that gathering and those funds to promote their nonprofit, arranging to hold it shortly before the wedding itself. We weren't part of the planning, and I imagined that the London board of directors probably had some very capable assistants on tap.

  "It's coming along quite well," she answered. "It was only the typical questions about the menu that always come up. No one knows better than a wedding planner what those can be like."

  "Of course," I said. "Is Clement joining us?" The groom didn't always participate in the conversations, but he had live chatted with me a couple of times regarding their details about departing the reception on horseback and riding to the nearby country house belonging to Jennet's uncle, where they planned to change and depart for the honeymoon.

  "Not today, because he has a meeting with the board," she answered. "The grand unveiling will be for me only, I'm afraid."

  "Are you ready?" I said.

  "Of course," she answered, laughing. "End my suspense, please."

  I turned the camera lens to the bouquet the floral artist had placed on the display table for me. With the baby's breath, I had paired tiger lilies in orange and yellow, gazing downwards to show off their black stems and the black bead pods, along with the double tiger I fondly referred to as the 'lyger' lily. I paired them with yellow, pink and orange crocosmia known as 'falling stars', and larger upright speckled orange lilies that captured the same beauty as the tiger ones, and African daisies in orange and pink. Dark green floral blades, flat as spears, decorated the base of the flower bouquet, which the florist had put in the rustic large clay jar I brought, with its simple wood tones.

  I head the little inward rush of breath. "I love it," she said. "It's simply perfect. I love how simple it is. What a brilliant color pairing — and the vase. Where did you find it?"

  "It's mine, actually," I admitted. "Something my husband was given years ago by an old farming family. It used to hold milk, but these days it mostly holds flowers."

  "I can't wait to see them on the tables," she said. "I can't wait to see them with my bouquet."

  "Well, it will take a little more work for that," I laughed. "The tiger lilies have to be specially trimmed, because a full stalk overwhelms the vase, and that means we have to have more than the normal amount, and the bridal bouquet is still a work in progress." Jennet wanted one that was small, but vibrant, so I had chosen spotted leopard liles and Incan lilies in shades of orange and bright pink, with egret flowers and a hint of white baby's breath on miniature stalks, making a close, tight cluster of stunning flowers. Short, bright green blades traveled vertically around the stems, tied with green floral twine.

  "It's absolutely fitting," she said. "I'll send a screenshot to Clement so he can see it. He'll say the same, as if he really cares about what sort of flowers we have. He's only interested in two details — the champagne and the horses." She laughed.

  "I'm glad you like them," I said. "I'll see you at the church before the end of the week, right?"

  "I'll be there," she answered. "I'm coming down to my uncle's house as soon as I can, and we'll meet then. I'd love for you to see the old family house."

  "Sounds good," I said. "Let me know when you and Clement are available and I'll clear my schedule." I made a note on my phone about penciling in extra time to visit the house that the bride's family owned in the country, probably after the meeting over the marquee's spot. Probably it would only be me, but maybe I should bring Paula along for the experience. It's never too soon to start, I thought.

  Chapter Three

  The evening news story's pictures of the archaeological site didn't show me the full scope, but I could see that Matt and Dovie were right about the tin mine connection — the ventilation chimneys of the old mine works could be
seen far in the background. As for the sea, I couldn't tell if it was close by. Matt could be right and it was dunes between, with hillside caverns.

  I hadn't heard from Lady Amanda, which surprised me. Things must be going well with Percy's visit so far, otherwise she would ring me to vent her frustrations. Maybe the old earl really had been telling the truth and had come home merely to dandle his grandson on his knee and hand out gifts in celebration of the newest member of the Harbury line.

  My phone rang early the next morning, waking me from an exciting dream about a house made of ice cream, which was melting around me as I searched for a spoon to eat it with. With a tiny groan, I opened my eyes. The screen of my mobile was flashing blue on the nightstand.

  It was Amanda's number. I swiped the call button. "Hello?"

  "Hello, Juli. Too early? I expect it is. I've been up since two with Charles having a tricky tummy, so I have no concept of time." My friend and former employer sounded groggy. "I think it was the fault of the chocolate fudge trifle at dinner, on top of that Brazilian three-bean salad thing."

  "Have you tried digestive biscuits and sips of water?" We all tried them for every child with a queasy stomach, usually in vain, but still we hoped for better with each new child.

  "Have. One biscuit refunded, promptly. He's one of those children prone to it, sadly. When he was a baby, the only thing that pacified him — no pun intended — was watching Mrs. Norris hoover, for some reason."

  I sat up, brushing my hair back. "Did you say 'hoover' or 'hover'?" With the inscrutable and stealthy military personality that was the housekeeper of Cliffs House, it could be either one.

  "The first one. She's at it again, actually, cleaning carpets like a fiend this week, so that'll cheer him come sunup. I think she's in a state of rebellion." Amanda paused. "You know that Percy is here?"

  "I do. He surprised me last week. I thought you guys must be having a nice time." Beside me, Matt rolled over, fumbling for his alarm clock. He read the time, then flopped his head back against the pillow and covered his eyes with one arm.