“I thought they were weights at first, sewn in to hold the hem down.” Bella handed me the sapphire then started working at the jacket seam again. “But the shape wasn’t right. See?” She displayed a second star-shaped jewel, again a sapphire surrounded by diamonds, then a third.
“I bet Claudia took apart a necklace,” Grammie said, taking the large sapphire from me. “But that begs a question, two questions actually. Where did she get the necklace, and why did she leave the pieces in the jacket?” She placed it on the coffee table.
“Either she was very wealthy, or”—I winced, hating to speak ill of Eleanor’s mother—“or she stole it.” The second theory might explain why she hid the stones rather than carry them openly and intact. I crossed my fingers, hoping Claudia had legitimately owned the necklace. By the looks of Shorehaven as it currently stood, finding valuable jewelry would be a welcome windfall.
Sophie held up a flower-shaped piece, the diamonds catching the light, then gently placed it next to the larger stone. “Could there be more jewelry in the other clothes?”
“Maybe.” I picked up the skirt again and felt along the hem. “There’s definitely something extra tucked in there.”
In the end, we each took an article of clothing, finding a string of pearls in the black-and-white evening dress, diamond earrings and a bracelet in the frocks, and the rest of the necklace in the suit, which had six stars, eight flowers, and two large teardrop sapphires, plus connecting diamonds. After arranging the items on the coffee table, we sat around it to admire the collection.
Madison put a hand to her head. “I can’t believe this. How long was this jewelry sitting up in Eleanor’s attic?”
“Since the early 1930s,” I said, snapping pictures of the pieces, including close-ups. I couldn’t even guess at their value. “Eleanor definitely didn’t know it was there or I’m sure she wouldn’t have given me the trunk.”
Grammie clasped her hands. “I can’t wait to tell her. What a treat, finding treasure in the attic.”
“In addition to the gorgeous vintage sheets and couture clothing Claudia owned, you mean?” I shook my head. “She was an enigma, that’s for sure.” And if Eleanor wanted to sell the jewelry, she’d need provenance, meaning a clear chain of ownership. Since I loved doing research, I would definitely volunteer to help. Plus I was itching to dig into the nursemaid’s mysterious background. Was she a runaway heiress or an adventuress with a loose moral code? Either way, Claudia was hiding secrets.
The sun was well below the horizon when I reluctantly climbed out of bed the next morning. Quincy, curled warm in the blankets, lifted his head and eyed me incredulously. “Do ya believe it, Quince? When do I ever get up before dawn?” He merely blinked at me before snuggling back down with a groan.
The answer was never, since early morning and I were not friends. I staggered over to the dresser and pulled out nylon shorts in my favorite periwinkle blue, a white T-shirt, and underwear. The air was chilly now but would warm up after sunrise. Highs in the eighties were forecast today. I’d wear a windbreaker to start, and sneakers until I changed into climbing shoes. Madison had a pair that would fit me.
In the kitchen, I made a pot of coffee and toasted a sesame bagel. After filling a car cup and dressing the bagel with cream cheese and banana slices, I threw on the jacket and headed out to my car. In the still, damp morning air, my sneakers crunched loudly on the gravel and Beverly’s engine started with a throaty roar. I winced, hoping I hadn’t disturbed Grammie. She often had insomnia.
As I put the car into gear, my phone bleeped with a text from Madison. Are you up? I paused long enough to write back, On the road, lady. Well, I would be, in about sixty seconds.
Zipping along in Beverly this early, drinking coffee and taking bites of bagel, was a revelation. No other vehicles were in sight on this normally busy route, and an air of peaceful expectation lay over the rolling hills and slumbering homes. A fresh new day was about to begin. Anything was possible.
Maybe I should become an early riser. Nah. If Ian and Madison hadn’t forced me out of the house, I would be cuddled up in bed with Quincy right now. A huge yawn burst from my chest at the thought.
Once I got to narrow Cobscot Point Road, the woods pressed close, forcing me to slow down to a crawl. I was cresting a small rise when a sharp whine and a bright light startled me. A scooter was coming fast, aimed right at me.
What on earth—with a jerk of the wheel, I swerved to the edge, my right tires hitting the sandy shoulder with a thump. Just in time. The tiny blue motorbike zoomed past like a demented hornet, with only inches to spare. All I saw was a helmeted rider hunched low over the handlebars.
Heart pounding, I braked and took a few deep breaths. After that close call, I was really awake.
Once my pulse slowed, I set off again, soon reaching the state park. In the parking lot, Ian and Madison were standing at the rear of Ian’s truck, both with arms full of ropes and clipping things I couldn’t begin to name. With a wave, I took the next slot, noticing a couple of other cars in addition to the truck and Madison’s Mini Cooper. Probably other rock climbers or early walkers.
Holding my coffee, I got out of the car and went to join them. “Good morning,” I said. “Or is it still night?”
Madison snickered. “Glad you made it.” Then she sobered. “Seriously, you’re going to love it.”
“That’s what you keep telling me.” I moved closer to Ian, who greeted me with a kiss, a webbed contraption in his hands. “Hey, sweetie,” he said, handing me the mysterious item. “Put this on.”
I set the coffee cup down on the tailgate. “What is it?”
“A climbing harness,” Madison said. She came over and helped me put it on, which involved putting both legs through loops and tightening it around my hips. “The rope is attached here,” she explained, showing me a carabiner clipped in front.
My chest tightened and my pulse began to race as images flashed through my mind—climbing a sheer rock face, slipping, falling … splattering on the ground.
Madison must have seen the panic on my face because she patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Iris. If you fall—and that isn’t likely since it’s a really easy route—the rope and harness will stop you immediately.”
“I’ve fallen dozens of times,” Ian said, which was comforting. Not. “Never got more than a scrape or two. Oh, there was the time I swung out and banged into the cliff. But that’s why we have these.” He handed me a neon yellow helmet.
I strapped it on, sincerely hoping it wouldn’t be needed, then took the small pack he handed me next, which held drinks and snacks. He slung the ropes over his shoulder as Madison hoisted another pack with our shoes and climbing hardware. We set off for the cliff.
A path through the woods descended gradually to the rocky shore, offering occasional glimpses of the bay. The light was like gray powder, sifting lighter every moment, and along the watery horizon, the first hint of orange appeared.
At the bottom, I sat on a flat rock and took off my sneakers, then tugged the climbing shoes on. They were oddly snug and flexible, like heavy-duty ballet slippers. Madison and Ian consulted about the route, which from here looked like a jumble of jutting rocks, cracks, and ledges.
We are going to climb UP that. Panic rumbled in my belly and I froze, not able to make myself stand up.
Ian came over and hunkered down beside me. “You know, Iris, if you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”
I gazed into his eyes, which were warm with tender understanding. What was I afraid of? Both he and Madison were experienced climbers and they’d never put me into any danger. A burst of courage and determination rushed through me and I jumped to my feet. “I’m going to do it.”
Ian ascended first, slotting climbing gear called nuts and cams into cracks, then clipping the climbing rope to them. This gear would hold us if we fell. Meanwhile, Madison belayed him, making sure to keep the rope taut. At the top, once secure, he set bolts for a top rope anchor—the safest form of climbing, she said. Once he was finished with the anchor, Madison lowered him.
“All right,” he said with a grin. “Who’s next?”
I didn’t move. Madison stepped forward. “Me. Iris, I’m going to call out my every move as I go up, okay? Then you can copy me.”
That made sense. “Perfect.” I moved into a position where I could watch more closely. Behind us, the sun broke the horizon, spreading an orange glow over the sky and water. Sunbeams painted the cliffs gold and created stark contrasts of light and shadow.
“Isn’t it awesome?” Ian asked me, watching the sunrise. He stood ready to support Madison as she climbed.
“It sure is,” I said, taking in the spectacular scene. Islands solidified in the strengthening light, as did the old lobster boat puttering around offshore and the people moving around atop the cliffs, windbreaker hoods up against the chill.
“On belay,” Madison said, her signal that she was ready to climb. After dipping her hands in chalk, she approached the cliff and, with several agile and assertive movements, was standing on the rock face. As promised, she called out every move, instructing me where footholds and handholds could be found. I began to see the small features that could support a climber.
Madison reached the top with a triumphant cry, then demonstrated how to descend, explaining how important it was to keep my feet on the rock, like walking backward down the cliff.
Now it was my turn. Madison helped me figure-eight the rope through my harness. I dipped my hands in chalk, hoping the dust would wick away the perspiration. As a last step, she pointed out a less-challenging route for me to try, to the right of where she and Ian had climbed.
“All right.” I took a deep breath, flexing my fingers. “I’m gonna do this.”
“One move at a time,” Ian said. “Focus on where you’re going to put your hands and feet next.”
The first few steps were easy, big blocky rocks. I’ve got this. My hands found tiny ledges to cling to, and it felt perfectly natural to stretch out a foot, make sure it was secure, then push off and stand. Rinse and repeat.
“You’re doing great, Iris,” Ian called, echoed by Madison.
Halfway up, I paused for a moment to catch my breath and look around—not down. That would be a mistake. On top of the cliff to my right, someone in a blue windbreaker was taking photographs. Of me? When sunlight hit his curly head, I recognized Theo Nesbitt, the teaching assistant. That’s right, he was staying at Shorehaven. Maybe there was a path into the park from there.
My fingers were cramping. Time to move. “Use that crack right over your head,” Madison called from below. “It’s nice and wide.”
I saw the feature she meant and reached for it. Soon my feet were resting on a nice ledge. Another three or four moves and I would be at the top. That knowledge gave me a burst of adrenaline and I moved fast.
When I stopped again to rest, I noticed Theo was gone. The sun was strong now, warming the rock under my hands, radiating toward my body. I basked for a moment, breathing deeply and looking around. Seagulls cried as they swooped overhead. On a shelf-like ledge down to my right, something fluttered. Squinting, I took a closer look.
Hair. The fluttering object was a length of long blonde hair. To my horror, a woman dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and rock-climbing shoes lay sprawled faceup on the ledge. Even from this distance, I could tell she was seriously injured or dead. And I recognized her.
Hailey Piper.