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  Izzy dropped her purse at the table. “While all of you are enjoying your alcoholic beverages, I’m going to indulge myself in other ways. I’m going shopping.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Cass said, dropping a lacy wrap on a chair back and asking Danny to fill a plate for her.

  They walked across the room, passed the veranda where Cass’ brother, Pete, and his Fractured Fish band were warming up. Brightly decorated banners—courtesy of Canary Cove artists—hung from fish line above the auction tables, designating the auction categories.

  “Jewelry,” Izzy read, heading toward a white-clothed table with tiered displays.

  Willow was already there. “You have to see this,” she said, waving them over. “This came in late today, just as we were finishing the setup.”

  It was a platinum necklace—two gold hearts the size of pretzels hanging from the chain. Roped around the hearts, binding them together, was a string of sparkling sapphires, diamonds, and rubies.

  Izzy gasped. “Good grief.”

  “It’s big,” Cass said, touching the hearts with the tip of her finger.

  Nell walked up and looked over Cass’ shoulder. “My. It’s certainly large,” she said, moving in for a closer look. She frowned. “It looks familiar.”

  “It’d be difficult to forget,” Izzy said. “But it’s not exactly your taste, Aunt Nell.”

  Nell laughed. No, it wasn’t. It looked expensive. In fact, it shouted that fact for all to see. Nell’s taste in jewelry ran to far more simple items.

  “Are those stones real?” Izzy asked Willow.

  “Real as you and me. At least that’s what the papers accompanying it read.”

  “It must weigh a ton,” Cass said.

  Tamara Danvers walked up behind them. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I could look at it all night.”

  “Beautiful . . . and big,” Cass repeated. “Very big.”

  But Tamara ignored the teasing. Her eyes grew large as she examined the clear, perfect diamonds, the rubies and sapphires circling the hearts. She leaned closer to the velvet display.

  Izzy looked at the card describing the gems. “It was an anonymous donation.”

  Anonymous. Nell looked more closely at the hearts. “Someone was generous to part with this.”

  Tamara couldn’t take her eyes off the necklace. “I have a bracelet and earrings with jewels slightly bigger, more expensive, but it would go beautifully together. It’s very nice.”

  “And big,” Willow whispered to Cass behind Tamara’s back.

  Tamara touched it gingerly, almost as if a diamond would explode before her eyes. Then she pressed a finger to her throat, as if feeling the necklace hanging there, measuring it, touching her skin. “Franklin will want something to celebrate our news. This might be just the thing.” Her smile was coy. She wrote down his name.

  They waited for a moment to make sure of the good news being celebrated.

  Tamara touched her abdomen lightly. “The heir,” she said, then scribbled a bid behind his name. “People say it’s too early to be telling people, but I can’t seem to keep the news private.”

  “Good news can be like that,” Nell said. She smiled at the numbers Tamara had scribbled on the bid sheet. “Franklin is very generous.”

  “Yes, he is. He spoils me, especially now that we have a baby coming.”

  “The necklace will look great on you,” Izzy said. “Not too many people could wear a piece of jewelry like that—but you can, with your height and figure.”

  “And these new breasts that pregnancy has given me,” she laughed. “Unexpected but quite nice.” She looked down at her body with obvious pleasure.

  They all smiled, not sure where to rest their eyes.

  But it was true—the business mogul’s younger wife’s figure was even more voluptuous with the increased blood supply of early pregnancy. She wore her beauty carefully, as Birdie put it, as if it might break. It was well tended, made possible by Franklin’s wealth. Tonight her figure was highlighted by a shimmering strapless gown and gold necklace collar. Yes, she could wear the entwined hearts comfortably. They’d settle between her breasts and beg to be admired.

  “I love jewelry. And, well, that dear man owes me—he left me home alone for nearly a month while he traveled the world.” Her words fell away as she looked at the necklace again.

  Willow wedged herself in beside Tamara and picked up the necklace, holding it up to catch the light. “Just so you know, I heard Alphonso Santos say that the sapphires matched his wife Liz’s eyes,” she said, her dark eyebrows lifting. One finger trailed down the lined sheet. “Hmmm. It looks like he’s interested in this neck- lace, too.”

  “Oh?” Tamara picked up the sheet and scanned the names, finding the generous Santos’ bid immediately. She quickly scribbled Franklin’s name on the sheet again and, alongside it, a new, higher bid.

  Across the room, Franklin Danvers stood at the bar, watching his wife as one would admire a fine painting. Tamara’s husband wasn’t a tall man, but his solid stance, strong, handsome features, and intense gaze granted him a power lacking in other, larger men.

  Several Cape Ann businessmen approached him and he turned away, moving easily into a weighty discussion of some sort, seemingly impervious to the party atmosphere spinning around them.

  Tamara looked at the bid sheet once more, gave the necklace a proprietary pat, and moved on down the jewelry table, dutifully scribbling generous bids on additional item sheets.

  Once she was out of earshot, Nell looked at Willow. “You’re devious—you know that, young lady? You intentionally got her to add several numbers to that bid.”

  Willow chuckled as she checked Tamara’s latest bid. “I am devious, aren’t I? And so good at it.” She wrinkled her nose at Nell—her second mother, as she called her—and moved along to another table, checking items and encouraging bidders along the way.

  “Tamara deserves that necklace, showy as it may be. Life with Franklin Danvers can’t be all fun and games,” Cass said. “And he has two ex-wives to prove it.”

  Izzy agreed. “He seems kind of . . . well, sedate, I guess you’d say. Nothing like his wife.”

  “Pete says she’s a party girl,” Cass said.

  Izzy frowned. “Party girl?”

  “Well, not now that she’s pregnant, I suppose. But he used to see her at the Gull Tavern when the band was playing there a couple months ago. Her husband was traveling, Europe or somewhere, and Pete said she was probably bored, being alone in that huge house.”

  They watched Tamara as she walked over to the bar and stood beside her husband. Her platinum hair was pulled straight back, reflecting the lights from above. Mrs. Franklin Danvers was every inch the glamorous executive wife tonight, not looking much like someone who partied at the Gull. She was put together perfectly, almost too perfectly, as if pulling one thread would cause her to unravel like a poorly knit sweater.

  “She probably was lonely with him gone,” Nell said. “Even when he’s home, he works long hours, though I suspect a baby will keep him home more often.”

  Izzy nodded. “Tamara comes into the shop often for that very reason. She doesn’t like to be alone. There’s always a group in the back room and she likes sitting around talking to them. But it’s funny, after she leaves, I realize I don’t know her, not really.”

  “You’re never sure what’s really there, right?” Cass said.

  “Something like that. Although sometimes she comes out with really personal things. Like a couple months ago—it was before she was pregnant—she told a whole group that before she got married, she had a checkup to make sure she could have a baby. Franklin suggested it, she said.”

  Nell lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s very personal.”

  “And weird,” Cass said.

  “Well, maybe not,” Nell said. “If it was important to both of them, maybe it was wise.”

  But it was definitely an odd thing to share with people you didn’t know we
ll. Tamara was Franklin’s third wife—and the first two marriages had obviously not produced a baby. Perhaps that fact played into the decision. Nell looked back across the room.

  Tamara was laughing at something her husband said, one hand resting on the sleeve of his Italian suit.

  He’s mine, her posture seemed to say.

  When Franklin turned his attention to the businessmen and more serious talk, her eyes wandered around the room, to the tables of jewelry, the well-dressed couples, then back to the bar, where Tyler Gibson was disengaging himself from a bevy of beauties. His eyes caught hers, and he paused briefly, his smiling look traveling over Tamara like a beam of light.

  His attention seemed to startle Tamara, as if she’d been caught looking when she shouldn’t have been, and she quickly turned away.

  The bartender looked surprised at the rebuff, then shrugged it off and walked the length of the bar to where Justin Dorsey stood waiting, a bag of ice in his hands.

  Justin nodded toward Tamara with a grin, apparently noticing the brush-off. Tyler laughed and took the ice, shrugging off Justin’s teasing.

  A minute later the mayor approached the Danvers group, and together they moved out to the veranda, where more appetizers and music filled the sea air.

  “Have you seen Justin?” Janie asked, coming up to the group. The worry lines across her forehead had returned.

  “He’s working.” Izzy pointed toward the bar. Justin held the ice lid open while Tyler dumped it in.

  “It looks to me like he’s making himself useful,” Cass added.

  Janie’s smile returned. “Good. Which I guess I should be doing, too. I promised Willow and Laura I’d keep an eye on the auction items.” She hurried off, waving to Justin as she disappeared into the crowd.

  The evening passed quickly as plates were cleared and more desserts made the rounds. Willow, Janie, and Laura wandered through the crowd, encouraging bidding and making sure food and drink were plentiful. Justin and the other valets set up extra tables in the entry hall for checkout, and boxes and bags were discreetly piled up behind them to carry off winning items.

  Finally Laura brought the bidding to a close, and the volunteer staff moved quickly, collecting bid sheets, circling the winners.

  Laura motioned for the bevy of volunteers to stand behind the tables where people would bring their receipts and claim the portable items.

  “Do you need help?” Nell asked.

  “I think we’re fine,” Willow said. “Laura could organize a roomful of toddlers. She’s amazing. And Kevin and Tyler will stick around after the bar closes and help the other guys handle any of the heavy stuff. They’ve all been taking turns patrolling the tables, too, keeping an eye on things.”

  Laura laughed. “Our very own muscle men.” She turned to Willow. “Time to read off the top item winners. Want to do the honors?”

  Squeals and cheers greeted the generous winning bids as people stepped up to claim their winning sailing adventures and vacation homes. When Willow read Franklin Danvers’ name as the highest bidder on the last item—the diamond, sapphire, and ruby heart necklace—Tamara leaned over and kissed him fully. The crowd cheered, and the organizers declared the evening a wild success.

  As people headed to the entry hall to claim their items, Nell looked around for Birdie and Ben.

  Birdie waved from a table where she was claiming a cartload of items. “Ben is loading his art winnings into the car.”

  Nell laughed. “All we need is a few more walls in our house.”

  “They’re all Canary Cove artists. Ben couldn’t resist.”

  He appeared then, taking Birdie’s box and motioning toward the entryway. “If Izzy has to stand for one more minute, I think she’ll have that baby in the middle of the community center. She’s drained.”

  He nodded toward the jewelry table where Izzy and Sam stood talking quietly to Laura and Willow. Behind them, Janie Levin, along with several other volunteers, huddled together, listening intently to what Laura was saying.

  “Something’s wrong,” Nell said as they made their way toward the group.

  On the table was the black velvet stand that once held the sapphire and ruby diamond necklace.

  “It’s gone,” Laura mouthed, meeting Birdie’s eyes.

  Nell turned and looked at her.

  Birdie’s hand went to her throat. “Gone? As in . . . ”

  Laura nodded.

  “Oh, my,” she said, and moved to Laura’s side.

  “Tamara or Franklin didn’t claim it?” Nell asked.

  Willow shook her head. Her eyes were moist.

  Nell watched Birdie’s face, composed and in charge, as if it were her job now to calm the event organizers. Suddenly she remembered why the necklace looked familiar. She’d seen it before—in Birdie’s den, when they were looking for some papers in the safe behind Sonny Favazza’s portrait. “It was your necklace, wasn’t it?” she said quietly.

  Before Birdie could answer, Laura spoke up, her voice choked. “Birdie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this could have happened. The volunteers were watching the tables all night.” Her face was the color of her snowy white Versace dress.

  Birdie waved away the concern. “No worry. It isn’t really a problem—except maybe for your uncle Franklin’s wife. Tamara was determined to get that necklace.” She looked beyond Laura to the bar, where Tamara Danvers stood chatting with Ty Gibson and Kevin Sullivan, oblivious of the drama unfolding behind her.

  “I’m calling the police—”

  “No, dear, you won’t.” Birdie placed one blue-veined hand on Laura’s arm. Her voice allowed no room for arguing. “Perhaps it was misplaced. But either way, the jewelry is insured. Besides, my mother always said that when one lost something to theft—if that’s what this was—the thief most likely needed it more than you do. And in the best of worlds, one would find that person and give her something to go with it.”

  “So we should find a bracelet to match?” Izzy asked.

  Birdie chuckled. “That would definitely be the answer. But I doubt if such a thing exists. So instead, we’ll forgive and forget. As I’m sure dear Carl would have done.”

  “Carl?” Cass asked.

  “My second husband. He gave it to me. He was fond of such weighty and expensive embellishments, even though I wouldn’t have been able to stand up if I had tried to wear any of them. Somehow he thought bigger and brighter and more expensive was always a good thing.” She smiled brightly. “Now, let’s not ruin a wonderful party over a necklace that I never liked. There’s no need to talk about this with anyone.”

  She glanced across the room again, and then looked sadly at Laura. “Except perhaps with Tamara and Franklin Danvers. And I suspect you are the best person to handle that, my dear.”

  Chapter 3

  “Franklin Danvers was gracious about the whole messy incident Saturday night,” Birdie said. She sat on the patio at Coffee’s—Harbor Road’s always crowded coffeehouse. Her small hands cradled a steaming cup of dark roast.

  A blue sky and Coffee’s dark roast. Certainly a good way to begin another week, in Birdie’s opinion. All was right with the world.

  Across from her, Nell and Ben listened with interest to the happenings since Saturday night when Birdie’s necklace went missing. Laura and Elliot Danvers had taken her to Sunday brunch and filled her in on all the details.

  “Franklin honored his bid—even though he didn’t get the necklace. He assured Tamara he’d find something equally as beautiful for her. On my end, I’ll funnel the insurance payment back to the community center fund, so nothing is lost, everyone wins nicely.”

  “Even the thief,” Ben said.

  Birdie laughed. “Yes, even the thief. Although whoever that may be is doomed to having a sore neck should he or she ever try to wear it.

  “Franklin Danvers was adamant Laura and Willow call the police, but Laura held her ground, as I’d asked. Not an easy task, standing up to that man.” Birdie tossed a crumb
of croissant to a waiting gull.

  “It would have been a shame to end that lovely evening with flashing blue lights,” Nell said.

  “On the other hand, Franklin’s right—someone committed a crime,” Ben said.

  “I suppose,” Birdie said. “And I believe people should accept the consequences of their actions. But last night simply didn’t seem the time or place. And perhaps the person truly was needy. How do fines and jail time help such an individual?”

  Ben covered Birdie’s hand, his large one causing hers to disappear. “Just one reason why we love you, Birdie. But what if the guy is buying drugs with money he makes off the jewels? We don’t know that, now, do we?”

  Birdie shushed him and suggested he forget he once had gone to law school.

  “Does Laura have any idea who might have done it?” Nell asked.

  “Not really, and she was reluctant to guess. There were hundreds of guests, lots of college kids helping out, people in the kitchen, catering, bartenders.”

  Nell thought over the evening. The tables were always crowded—so crowded it wouldn’t have been too difficult to sweep the necklace off into a pocket. “It happened late in the evening or someone would have noticed the piece missing earlier.”

  Ben nodded. “It was a valuable necklace.” He looked at Birdie over the rim of his coffee mug.

  “That’s all relative, now, isn’t it? Valuable to whom? It dawned on me recently that things sitting idly in a locked box could be put to much better use—like Lily Virgilio’s free health program.”

  “You’re right, as always.” Ben pushed out his chair, then leaned over and patted Birdie’s hand. “And with your wisdom ringing in my ears, I’m off to a morning meeting with the yacht club directors. I’ll leave you and Nell to figure out the world’s problems.”

  “And solve them,” Birdie said sweetly.

  Ben laughed as he walked off down the street, his long legs taking him quickly out of sight.

  “Ben wears retirement well,” Birdie mused. “Though that’s a bit of a misnomer. He’s as busy as anyone I know.”