Elias grinned proudly. “My wife has a real talent for following the money,” he said to Dawson. “If your grandmother’s fortune is out there, she’ll find it.”

Dawson looked at Willow. “That’s very kind of you. I might be able to help. I’ve got a little talent in that arena myself.”

“Excellent,” Willow said. “We’ll work the project as a team.”

They finished the coffee in silence. The flames crackled cheerfully on the hearth. Outside, the long summer day came to a close. Darkness settled on the island.

“I told Knox that he had miscalculated,” Dawson said to Abby. “I explained that he had misjudged the family dynamics. I said you had no reason to risk your neck for me. But he was convinced that you would come. For a smart psychopath, he sure had a blind side. He actually bought into the image in that photo on the back cover of Families by Choice. Thought the happy Radwell family was the real deal.”

Abby smiled. “Like Dad always says, family is everything.”

48

ABBY STOOD WITH SAM ON THE BLUFF ABOVE THE SMALL COVE. Sam was on his phone. Newton was exploring some nearby rocks.

Sam concluded the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of his leather jacket. “That was the lawyer I had looking into the status of Thaddeus Webber’s estate. Turns out there is a will.”

“So Thaddeus did take steps to make sure his most valuable books went to a library?” Abby smiled. “That’s great.”

“He didn’t leave his collection to a library. He left everything, including the contents of his book vault, to a single individual.”

“He had some family after all?”

“According to his will, he left his collection to the person he looked upon as a daughter, although, given the age difference, maybe he should have said granddaughter. He left it all to you, Abby.”

“What?”

Sam smiled.

It took her a few seconds to find her tongue. “But some of the volumes in that collection are worth a fortune.”

“They’re all yours now. The lawyer is making certain that the collection is guarded until it can be packed up and transported here to Copper Beach. You’ll have to open Webber’s vault, though. You’re the only one who knows the code.”

“This is amazing. I can’t believe it. First your mother and Dawson track down the bulk of the Strickland fortune in that offshore bank and arrange to get it back. Then one of your fancy lawyers manages to spring Grady Hastings, who is scheduled to start work in the Black Box facility on Monday.”

“Good talent is hard to come by,” Sam said. “Don’t like to see it wasted.”

“And now I find out I’m inheriting all of Thaddeus’s books. On top of everything else, I actually got a phone call from Orinda Strickland today, informing me that she intended to make provision for me in the Strickland family trust.”

“You told her you didn’t want to be named in the trust, didn’t you?”

“How did you guess?”

“I know you, Abby. The money isn’t important to you. All you’ve ever wanted was to be part of the family. Don’t worry, when you marry me, you’re going to have all the family you can handle.”

The late summer sun was setting, streaking the clouds with fiery light and turning the water to a sheet of hammered copper. Abby watched the spectacular sunset, aware of a glorious sense of happiness and certainty.

“Now I know why they call this place Copper Beach,” she said.

Sam drew her into his arms. His eyes heated. “I told you that you would understand one of these days. Think you can call this island home?”

“Home is wherever you and I are together,” she said. “Well, and Newton, too, of course.”

“Newton, too,” Sam agreed.

He kissed her there in the warm copper light of the summer evening. Abby opened her senses to the powerful energy of the love that she knew would bind them for a lifetime.

The Phoenix crystal burned.

CRYSTAL GARDENS

A LADIES OF LANTERN STREET NOVEL

THE MUFFLED THUD OF THE SHATTERED LOCK ECHOED LIKE a thunderclap in the deep silence that drenched the cottage. Evangeline Ames recognized the sound at once. She was no longer alone in the house.

Her first primal instinct was to go absolutely still beneath the covers. Perhaps she was mistaken. The cottage was old. The floorboards and the ceiling often creaked and moaned at night. But even as the commonsense possibilities flitted through her head, she knew the truth. It was two o’clock in the morning, an intruder had broken in and it was highly unlikely that he was after the silver. There was not enough in the place to tempt a thief.

Her nerves had been on edge all afternoon, her intuition flickering and flaring for no obvious reason. Earlier, when she had walked into town, she had found herself looking over her shoulder again and again. She had flinched at the smallest rustling noises in the dense woods that bordered the narrow lane. While she was shopping in Little Dixby’s crowded high street, the hair had lifted on the back of her neck. She had felt as if she was being watched.

She had reminded herself that she was still recovering from the terrifying attack two weeks ago. She had very nearly been murdered. Little wonder her nerves were so fragile. On top of that, the writing was not going well and a deadline was looming. She dared not miss it. She’d had every reason to be tense.

But now she knew the truth. Her psychical intuition had been trying to send a warning for hours. That was the reason she had been unable to sleep tonight.

Cool currents of night air wafted down the hall from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps sounded. The intruder was not even bothering to conceal his approach. He was very certain of his prey. She had to get out of the bed.

She pushed back the covers, sat up quietly and eased herself to her feet. The floorboards were chilly. She stepped into her sturdy leather-­soled slippers and took her wrapper down off the hook.

The assault on her person two weeks earlier had made her cautious. She had considered all possible escape routes when she had rented the cottage. Here in the bedroom, the waist-­high window was her best hope. It opened onto the small front garden, with its lattice gate. Just outside the gate was the narrow rutted lane that wound through the dense woods to the ancient country house known as Crystal Gardens.

Out in the hall, a floorboard creaked under the weight of a booted foot. The intruder was moving directly to the bedroom. That settled the matter. He had not come for the silver. He had come for her.

There was no point trying to silence her movements. She pushed one of the narrow casement windows wide, ignoring the squeak of the hinges, and clambered through the opening. With luck, the intruder would not be able to fit.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bloody stupid woman?” The harsh male voice roared from the doorway. It was freighted with the accents of London’s tough streets. “No one slips away from Sharpy Hobson’s blade.”

There was no time to wonder how a London street criminal had found his way to Little Dixby or why he was after her. She would worry about those questions later, she thought, if she survived the night.

She jumped to the ground and stumbled through the miniature jungle of giant ferns that choked the little garden. Many of the fronds were taller than she was.

To think she had come to the countryside to rest and recuperate from recent events.

“Bloody hell, come back here,” Hobson howled from the bedroom window. “Make things difficult, will ye? I’ll take my time with ye when I do catch you, just see if I don’t. You’ll die nice and slow, and that’s a promise. Bloody little bitch.”

A string of savage curses told her that Hobson was finding it impossible to squeeze through the casement window. A tiny whisper of hope swept through her when she did not hear the pounding of footsteps behind her. Hobson would be forced to use one of the two doors in the cottage. That meant she had a little breathing room, time enough, perhaps, to make it to the only possible sanctuary.